


He's My Collar

by Siyuris



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (but only for Peter), (it's not that heavy trust me), Alternate Universe - No Powers, College Student Peter, Crossdressing, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Miles Morales Is a Good Bro, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker in Strawberry Dress, Peter Parker is a Damsel in Distress, Peter Parker is a Mess, Protective Miles Morales, Protective Wade Wilson, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexual Tension, Size Difference, Size Kink, Superfamily, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Wade is falling for Peter (hard), crossdressing!Peter, give it a chance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 57,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28048731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siyuris/pseuds/Siyuris
Summary: "I died a thousand timesI did what I had to doHey, that’s just how it goesI’m still coming back to you"Peter is not a damsel, but he surely is in distress. Deadpool just wants to help a pretty boy in a cute dress.Mix this with a pair of overprotective dads, a bunch of snarky college students, several chaotic superheroes and a generouse dose of gay panic to receive a serious emotional rollerocaster.
Relationships: Background Steve Rogers/Tony Stark - Relationship, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, background Michelle Jones/Gwen Stacy
Comments: 135
Kudos: 247





	1. Chapter 1

“So I was thinking…” Miles tried to start something, but MJ just popped her gum loudly, interrupting him.

“Did it hurt?” She asked blankly, while Gwen roared with laughter, almost spilling her soda on Ned, who just continued eating without much of a visible reaction on one of the usual crude jokes Michelle used to make. Not like he had any place to laugh, unlike MJ he didn’t date a superhero, so the laugh free pass wasn’t one of his privileges, and for making fun of Miles he could find his shoelaces tangled together in the near future. So, you know. Not worth it.

Peter, though, liked to play with fire, so he smiled, not really trying to hide it against a straw and took a loud sip of his chocolate milk.

“Good one babe” Gwen grinned and gave Michelle a high five and a loud kiss on the cheek. Miles only rolled his eyes at this, waiting for them to calm down. 

_See?_ Thought Peter, flicking his gaze at the innocent looking MJ, who tried really hard to hide her smugness. _Superhero girlfriend free pass at its finest._

“As I was saying... “ The young hero sighed a little and fidgeted in his seat, the movement immediately noticed by his friends and guaranteeing him their full attention. If Miles was nervous, it could really mean anything, from the unsuccessful date to the new alien apocalypse, so they treated his concerns really seriously. 

Well, as seriously as the bunch of sarcastic, unusual college students can.

“You know that my birthday is coming, right?” He asked with an unsure voice, and all of them visibly relaxed. Peter already knew what was coming and smiled softly to himself, finishing his milk and reaching for the last slice of pizza. 

“No way dummy, it’s already September but yeah, we all totally forgot about that silly little thing about you turning twenty two.” Gwen snorted, amused tone showing her true emotions. Part of Miles’ nervousness disappeared, as he shoved the blonde in the arm playfully.

“Yeah yeah, you’re all sooo great and you’d never forget, I get it, sorry for ever doubting you. But here’s something more…” he took a deep breath and pointed at Peter with his head. “You know that me and Gwen sort of… work with Peter’s folks yeah? And it’s all buddy buddy when it comes to kicking villains' asses, but I’ve never really thought that they could be somehow fond of me or, I don’t know, like my presence really much? I mean, they always looked pleased that me and Peter are friends, probably because they’re overprotective and like the idea that I can somehow watch over him when they’re not near or something, BUT” he stopped himself when MJ gave him The Look that meant he started to digress from the subject, “What I wanted to say is that they make me a proposition. Which I wasn’t expecting at all, I must admit, and I kind of made a fool of myself from staring at them like they grew a second head or something, instead of thanking them. You know, just me being smooth as always. But hell, they asked if I wanted to throw a party for my birthday, like, in their mansion, so I kind of spaced out for a while. Because what the heck, seriously, why would they even say that?”

“Because they DO like you, and they ARE grateful that you stuck with me” Peter rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face.

“Yeah but like, even you didn’t have a party in their house” noticed Ned, as he looked at Miles visibly impressed. 

“Because I didn’t want to.” Peter shrugged, and Gwen groaned. 

“You too?” She looked really offended, glaring between him and her girlfriend.

“What?” Miles looked at MJ, who calmly stirred her milkshake with a spoon, not once blinking as their eyes met. “They made you this proposition too? And you refused?!” 

MJ smirked and winked at them. “I wanted to spend the first birthday when I’m in a relationship with just my beloved one, what can I say.”

Gwen made a loud puking noise, but at the same time she grabbed her girlfriend's hand and squeezed, looking at Michelle with heart shaped eyes. “Still can’t believe you picked that lame trip with me over a fancy party” she mocked, her tender tone breaking the effect successfully. 

“Yeah okay, that I can understand, but you, Peter? You’re single, and what, you seriously preferred to spend your birthday with us eating pizza just like every Friday?” Ned asked with disbelief, lifting up his eyebrow. Peter just shrugged again, smiling. 

“You well know that yes, it is my definition of a fine party, so don’t even start. Now, though, you’ll all get the chance to have some fun, since I assume that Miles will take the invitation.” 

They all looked at the superhero who sighed and scratched his head, looking conflicted. 

“Of course I will, it’s a damn good birthday gift itself and I would be crazy or stupid to say no. Or be you I guess. Now I’m just sad that I’m not as special as I thought I was…”

“Hey, quit the shit, now” Peter frowned at him. “If anything, it means you’re more like family now. You know that my dads wouldn’t make this proposition to anyone, and that shows that they know how much you guys mean to me and how they value you.” 

“Ugh, stop it.” Miles’ cheeks darkened a little, as a warm smile spread on his face. “I’m not used to you being so nice, quick, insult me somehow.”

“I can always insult you if you want” MJ offered helpfully, but Spider-Man only scowled at her.

Peter laughed loudly as his friends started to playfully argue again. 

***

“Bye Ned!”

“Bye Peter!”

“Love you guys, see you later!” Gwen screamed, when they all were on different ends of the crossroad, yelling to themselves in the last attempt of interaction before they’ll end the meeting. “And I really love this look Peter, you nailed it!”

Peter grinned and blew a kiss in her direction, before all of them disappeared behind different corners. Then he cackled, walking and turning around, and when he stared down at himself his smile widened. Yeah, he felt and looked excellent today, he had to admit it. 

This Strawberry Dress he ordered online was even more stunning in reality than on the photos, and that’s not how it usually goes. 

He sighed at the fond memories that floated his mind. 

He was glad for his friends and their acceptance, the way they all never made fun of that he had a thing for the female clothes, and always made him feel loved and comfortable around them. Peter always felt different, starting from the unusual people that kept him company since he was little (were you ever babysat by the nordic god when you were four?), and ending it on his outstanding taste, that caused him a lot of trouble when he was a teenager. He was called all sorts of names, his masculinity insulted, his body derided, his pride crunched to the ground. Just because he felt better in skirts than in jeans. And Peter wasn’t even doubting his gender! He felt like a cis man, just enjoying wearing the specific type of clothes, just some pieces of fucking fabric that didn’t really matter. He really couldn’t imagine, how non cis gendered people felt among all those douchebags. It was exhausting.

He still was lucky though. First, his parents were the most supporting dads ever, and they always encouraged him to act and dress just like he wanted, and they raised him in the belief that what some strangers might say behind his back doesn’t really matter. Because what was important was his loved ones, and they adored him just the way he was.

His friends only confirmed those words, quickly reassuring him, that they would never, ever judge him just because of what he liked to wear. 

Especially when he looked that deliciously (Gwen’s words). 

So they had his back every time someone tried to laugh at him, always willing to break some noses (MJ and Gwen), or spill something on the bastards heads (Miles and Ned). Since the day they met, Peter’s life became a lot brighter and easier, even if that meant that there were more people he had to worry about now. With Miles and Gwen patrolling the city full of dangerous villains, it was really hard to not constantly feel concerned every time they didn’t respond for more than five minutes to the messages he sent.

Peter grimaced when the cold wind caused him to shiver, and wrapped his jacket tighter around himself. He spotted a yellow taxicab parked nearby, with a friendly looking indian man on the front seat, but he hesitated. There were less and less warm evenings like this, nice summer weather slowly giving up to the incoming autumn, and Peter wanted to use as much of it as he could. Besides, his apartment was only fifteen minutes away, and he was already short on money after he bought that dress. Well, no one said his decisions were always wise.

He sighed and continued walking. He knew that if he only said a word, his dad would instantly transfer a couple of thousands on his account, but he didn’t want that. He already let them pay for his college, the last thing he could do was to take care of his bills himself, and learn how to save money. He moved out for a reason okay? And yeah, Tony threatened that if he’ll leave them, they’ll leave him to “play an adult just like he wanted”, but Peter knew it was only empty words. He was almost sure that if he’d ever do something like eat an instant noodle soup or be late one day to his paying rent time, they would lose their shit thinking he’s not handling himself. Miles was right, they _were_ overprotective and it was one of the reasons why he ever decided to leave the luxurious mansion that was his home for almost nineteen years of his life. He was pretty sure he had a wiretap installed in his phone.

Just when he was thinking about the visit he was supposed to pay his dads in the next few days, someone suddenly grabbed his arm roughly, and pulled him in the dark alley he was about to pass. The shadows swallowed him before he even had a chance to scream for help, too surprised by the movement. 

His whole world narrowed to the sharp flash of pain as the stranger threw him on the wall, hard. He gasped, but before his vision cleared enough for him to see his attacker, those rough hands were on him again, pinning his arms to the harsh brick wall. 

“Well, well, well… What do we have there?” A cold, unpleasant voice whispered theatratically, tightening his grip a little.

All of the combat techniques, all of those complicated self defense procedures that aunt Tasha trained with him since he was seven flew out the metaphorical window, when he saw his enemy’s face.

Lonnie Lincoln. The Tombstone himself was holding him is his iron grip, in this godforsaken alley, with only rats as the witnesses of his incoming end.

Because that was it, right? He didn’t stand a chance against this man, and he was sure that nobody would hear his cry for help. The gangster probably took care of it.

“Well, I must admit that it’s not a typical way for me to deal with the commissions, but I’m sure that a little freak such as yourself won’t cause me a lot of problems, and you will cooperate like a good dog you are.” Lonnie bared his yellow teeth in some grotesque parody of a smile and Peter felt like throwing up. He never stood more still in his life, barely daring to blink, his breathing irregular and shallow.

 _Think, Parker, think you idiot!_ Voice in his head sounded suspiciously close to Natasha’s, demanding and strong. _What’s around you? What are your chances? Everything can be a weapon, make a plan dumbass!_

Tombstone probably took his silence as a consent to his previous words, because he smiled again, looking very pleased with himself. 

“Well, I’m glad we have an agreement here. No funny business freak, just a few simple answers, and you’ll be on your way, both of us satisfied.” The tone was probably meant to sound reassuring, but Peter still remembered how Miles once told him how he saw this man breaking the neck of one of his inferiors with his bare hands. He really doubted that he would just let him go after all of this.

But he still had to try, to fight for his life, to break free. Not for himself, never for himself but for his fathers and friends, whose faces were currently burned under his eyelids. 

For them. He knew he had to at least try for them.

He needed distraction. If only Lincoln would free his right arm, he could grab his phone. And then he had a blade hidden in the case, design of his father, Tony. He gritted his teeth. 

Miraculously, that was what happened. Tombstone let go of his shoulder and searched for something in his jacket. In the same time Peter felt so shocked, that he almost missed the opportunity, but quickly recovered and slowly slipped his hand in the pocket, gripping the gadget and ignoring the bruises throbbing in pain on his suddenly free arm. The most difficult step behind him.

“Okay weirdo, here comes the first question” the gangster grunted and pulled out a crumpled photograph, shoving it in Peter’s face. “Do you recognize this person?”

At first, his drumming with adrenaline brain couldn’t recognize the object in front of him, and he stared blankly at the photo, not really seeing it. But when he did, he felt his eyes widening a little against his will.

It was him, talking with Miles dressed in his Spider-Man suit, both of them sitting on the edge of the rooftop, just a few blocks away from where he and Tombstone were standing now. It was two weeks ago, after one of his friend’s more quiet patrols, when he messaged Peter if he wanted to hang out just for a moment, because he had some time and was currently in the neighbourhood. They tried to not to do this very often, knowing that it could be dangerous, but they both let their guard down when it became more safe in town after Miles and Gwen successfully broke up the drug ring that was supplying most of Kingpin’s businesses and… oh. They should never let themselves think that.

Peter couldn’t believe they were that stupid.

“So you do.” Lincoln smirked again, seeing Peter’s reaction. “Now,” he tucked the photo back into his pocket and leaned a little closer, causing Peter to almost gag from the smell coming from his mouth. “I have a second question. What do you know about Spider-Man, freak?”

Peter's lips shut close almost instantly, and Lonnie shook his head disapprovingly. 

“My, and there I thought we had clarity. Listen, it’s really simple. Tell me something useful, for example, his name, address, maybe age or the contact details, whatever floats your boat. Then I’ll let you go without any missing limbs, unharmed. Though I won’t promise that our little bug will be left in the same condition, you know how it is. So ask yourself, little freak, is Spider-Man worth dying for?”

Tombstone looked at him almost indulgent, his tone confident. Surely he didn’t know everything, didn’t know how important Peter was to Miles, didn’t do his research as carefully as the boy feared he did. Otherwise he was sure that the man wouldn’t interrogate him in some stinky alley, but would take him straight to his boss.

And Peter's mind roared with rage. They were going to hurt Miles. They were going to force him into telling them where the other boy lived and then probably kill him. Kill Miles. 

Kill his friend. Kill his _family_. 

No one was allowed to touch one of his loved ones, ever. 

Before Peter’s mind blinded with fury could keep up with what his body was doing, he hissed like some feral animal and spit in Lincoln’s face.

The gangster jerked back in surprise, pure shock on his face for a split second, before the anger took its place. He grabbed Peter’s arm with even more force than before, twisting it.

“You’ll regret this you fucking fag” he almost snarled, eyes beaming with hate.

And Peter understood that this was it. He made a couple of bad decisions and he was going to pay. Tombstone would probably break his arms and legs to make sure he’d suffer, and then he was going to kill him. And he wouldn't be able to do anything, because he wasn’t special, because he was weak, because he decided that it would be such a clever move to annoy one of the most dangerous people in the city…

Just as the bone in his arm crunched in protest, a hair’s breadth before breaking, Lonnie suddenly shuddered and released him. In the same moment his hands loosened their iron grip on the boy's body, he was thrown back so fast that Peter’s vision blurred. 

“Yeah, White, I can’t believe that too. To try to hurt one of the most gorgeous creatures we’ve ever seen? Damn, this guy must be even more nuts than us!” Said another voice, much more pleasant than the gangster’s one, low and a little hoarse. After a second of intense blinking, Peter finally removed the black spots swinging behind his vision and spotted his saviour, standing a few steps away above the Tombstone’s body on the ground. The man was dressed in black and red leather, with two katanas on his back, hands on his hips and head shaking at the defeated villain in disappointment. 

“And to use a slur? Gee, it's the twenty-first century, keep up with the rest of the world, asshole.” The man grabbed Lonnie with one hand, and removed a knife from his back that Peter didn’t notice before. Then he lifted the weakly protesting man from the floor and punched him once in the back of his head, making him lose slack in his grip instantly. He laid the unconscious gangster back on the ground unceremoniously and started tying him up with the rope he plucked out of nowhere, meanwhile tucking a phone between his head and a shoulder, whistling. 

Peter shuddered at the show of raw strength, watching how his attacker was manhandled with ease by his rescuer.

By Deadpool.

Oh my god, he was saved by the _freakin Deadpool._

Of course Peter recognized the infamous mercenary instantly, but just now it all really hit him, with the power of a train at full speed. 

Peter knew that the man was one of the most dangerous people in the _world_. A disgrace of New York, as the media liked to say, a killer machine that knew no master other than money, what made him extremely unpredictable. Willing to work to whom paid the most, but never too long, only temporary and always messy, not following any rules and restrictions. Lone wolf, very bad at teamwork, with only his weapons as his companions. Emissary of death, a nightmare of both villains and heroes, a true headache of SHIELD. He was probably giving sleepless nights to Nick Fury himself sometimes, as the impossible to predict moves of the antihero were always leaving an enormous mess to clean for the special agents' organisations.

The other thing that Peter knew, because his fathers, especially Tony, often mentioned it, was that the man was completely insane. 

“He has to be.” Peter remembered one time they were eating dinner together, when his dads came back from a long mission for SHIELD, where Deadpool somehow managed to appear too, and the topic came up by itself. “Can you imagine gaining that unbelievable healing factor that makes you basically immortal without sacrificing something equally important? Being able to burn down your own body, shatter it into pieces and still survive? Man, everybody would become a total cuckoo after years of life like this.”

“Tony is right” his pop nodded in agreement, blue eyes serious with worry. “Death is what makes us human. If you can’t die, if you don't fear it, what could it turn you into?” 

The answer Iron Man gave his husband then, was some snarky comment about a blood starved monster, and a request to change the topic. And years later, Peter still remembered this conversation, still remembered how unsteady it made him feel. How he wondered about a possibility to regrow your head or leg, about the recklessness that would follow a power like this. 

And that was the other dangerous thing about the mercenary. He didn’t have to listen to anybody, because what did they have above him? He attempted to run from every prison they tried to put him in. And they couldn't threaten him into submission with the promises of death or torture, couldn’t use violence to tame him. Hell, Peter remembered watching one clip where the antihero was howling with laughter, fighting three gangsters with a missing left arm and a bone sticking out of his broken thigh, bleeding like a pig. Peter couldn’t stop watching this even if part of him wanted to puke on the amount of gore in the video.

And there were of course other informations about Deadpool’s delirium, how he used to speak to some voices in his head, refer to them by some names and seem to genuinely value their opinions. How he also appears to have suicidal predispositions, occasionally killing himself in the random situations. SHIELD had so much footage of the merc suddenly shooting himself in the head in different parts of the city (or even some films from the other countries where he did that) and their specialists suspected that it had a motive in the schizophrenic attempts. 

What Peter also knew, from what Miles told him, was Deadpool’s unbearable character.

His friend admits that over the years that passed with him saving people as Spider-Man, he had many occasions to accidentally work with the man, or just to spend some time around him. And god, was he annoying! Miles said that he didn’t know anything about how much one person could talk, until he met Deadpool. Apparently the merc never shut the fuck up, and the jokes he liked to crack were always either inappropriate or just rude. He had a tendency to act like a big child, which, mixed with his love for blowing things up, was a truly dangerous fusion. 

He didn’t take no for an answer for most things and couldn’t be persuaded into non-violent solutions, taking pride in the finessed techniques he uses to defeat his targets. He liked to compete with the other heroes, if they were currently with him, and could sabotage the whole action just for fun, if he felt bored.

Miles said that he never met someone who could be more nerve-wrecking and that he hated nights when the merc could somehow find him and stuck through his entire patrol, just to mess with him. 

And his friend said that okay, maybe Deadpool seemed to genuinely like Spider-Man, and never tried to reveal his identity even if he had the power to do so, but it still wasn’t enough for the young hero to tolerate him and…

...and why the hell was the mercenary currently speaking about Spider-Man, huh?

Peter refocused his attention and blinked as the man’s chattering suddenly became loud and clear in his mind again, cutting the stream of his frantic thoughts.

“...that someone like you, Spidey, should already know that I’m ALWAYS serious. Dead serious. Ha, you get it, right? Because I am Deadpー no, no, no, no, no don’t hang up! I’m not joking, I have a present for ya. Just please come to the address I told you before, you won’t regret it, pinky promise! Now, you know how much I value pinky promises so don’t even think about not coming, I know where you live. Joke, I do not. But I could! And I will come to your house if you won’t respect our pinky promise pact, you gave me your number for a reason and you know that I’m _really_ trying not to use it when it’s not an absolute emergency, shut up Yellow, the lack of hot sauce in our taco _was_ an emergency, besides, it was your idea so don’t try blaming all of it on me again… aaand he hung up.” Deadpool sighed and stared at his phone like it personally offended him, before hiding it back in one of his many pockets. He got up from his crouching position and stretched his back, standing in full height. Then he abruptly looked straight at Peter without warning, causing the boy's heart to stop beating for a moment.

“You okay there, beautiful?” The man asked, voice somehow gentler, and a little concerned. Head tilted slightly, he slowly turned his front to the boy, as if he were approaching a skittish animal.

“I…” Peter’s voice came out hoarsely, throat tight with emotions. His knees went weak as the throbbing pain from the bruises and injured limb suddenly washed over him, making his vision sway.

Deadpool was by his side in a split second, moving faster than the boy could see. He reached out his arm, a silent offer, and Peter grabbed it to steady himself before he could think better of it.

It’s like all of his fathers’s lectures never happened.

He’s just clinging to the most dangerous man he'd probably ever meet in his life, instead of running or calling someone or trying to break free. But the thing is, if Deadpool really decided to fight him, Peter would be dead in a heartbeat. If he didn’t stand a chance against Tombstone, he could only dream about resisting the strength and skill that the merc represented, judging by the way he moved Lincoln around like he was a toddler, not a trained gangster and Kingpin’s right hand. But the strange thing is, he wasn’t trying to harm Peter. Nor tease him, and instead he'd saved his sorry ass and now was helping him find his balance, his arm warm and solid under Peter’s trembling hands. And he wasn’t really cutting off his escape too. He was standing just out of the edge of invading his personal space and woah, okay, maybe it wasn’t the best moment for Peter’s thoughts to focus on how easily he could be caged by the man if he only decided to take a step further. 

But _of course_ his brain betrayed him and let his gaze slip over Deadpool's body, from the pecs that were exactly in his line of sight, up to the merc’s neck, until he had to lift his chin to look into the white eyes of his mask, that were staring right back at him. 

And it’s not like he didn’t know how the antihero looked before, he watched all those videos didn’t he? But really, it’s all about perspective, and no number of footage could prepare him for how damn _big_ Deadpool was.

It wasn’t just the physique that made his head spin, he lived with Captain America himself his whole life god damn it. He was quite accustomed to the impossibly ripped bodies, since the biggest part of his dad’s friends were special agents, nordic gods and super soldiers. Hell, when he was going through puberty he could normally train with Thor and not pop a boner like some typical horny teenager, despite his developing size kink and gay awakening.

But all of those people were basically his family! Deadpool though… 

What really made Peter feel giddy was the aura surrounding the man like a thick veil, sewed from all those legends people liked to tell about him. This thrill of danger, when you didn’t know which gossips were true, every one of them equally possible when it came to this man. You could tell just by the way he moved and stood, that he was a predator, a hunter, who’s presence alone was enough to make your heart beat faster with adrenaline.

… Or maybe it was just how Peter perceived this.

Okay, life with all those superheroes had a bigger impact on his mental illness than he previously thought, so what.

Ignoring a blush that slowly started creeping on his cheeks, Peter took a deep breath.

Leather, gunpowder and blood. It really should be an unpleasant combination. It wasn’t.

“My arm…” He finally stammered, grimacing at how whiny his voice sounded. God, he was pathetic.

But Deadpool didn’t laugh at him, as he expected. What was truly unsettling because what the merc probably saw was a furiously blushing skinny boy in a dress, bitching about a couple of bruises and sticking to an infamous murderer because he couldn’t stand on his own two feet. Fuck, even Peter wanted to laugh at himself.

Yet all the merc did was clear his throat slightly and ask with this husky voice “You want me to check it for any wounds, baby boy?”

And Peter felt a little wrecked as the shiver went through his body, followed by the wave of guilt and shame. What nobody never fucking told him was that apparently, apart from being an insane hitman that could throw a war over a dropped chimichanga, Deadpool liked to play knight in shining armour for damsels in distress like him. And this fact, overlooked in all those stories people told him, was somehow really important.

Still looking in the emotionless white eyes of this red mask, Peter opened his mouth, not sure what he wanted to say, but before he had a chance to answer the man’s question, a loud scream of familiar voice interrupted him.

“Hey! Leave him alone, NOW!”

It was like some spell suddenly broke, bringing back the awareness of the whole situation, that felt like a dash of cold water. Deadpool instantly backed off, as fast as he approached Peter before, the movement taking all the air out of the boy’s lungs.

Next to him with a painful sounding thud landed Miles, dressed in full Spider-Man suit, immediately stepping in front of Peter and hiding him behind his own body, figure stiff with anticipation, as he almost growled at Deadpool.

“What the _fuck_ were you saying to him, huh? What did you do to him?! Was this all some sort of a prank for you, that, that, I don’t know you wanted to get me distracted? To establish my sense of safety, because you wanted to show me how easily you can find people who are close to me? Just when I started to think you are not THAT bad? Was all of this to fool me?!” Peter had never heard Miles sound more broken, more scared and angry at the same time, his sudden outburst leaving the boy speechless, despite the urge to clarify the misunderstanding and calm his friend. 

“And you” Miles unexpectedly turned back to Peter, his voice now more concerned than furious but body still tense. “Oh my god, is everything all right? Are you okay, are you hurt? Did he do anything? Did he _try_ ? Was he threatening you? Oh shit.” The young hero suddenly snapped back to Deadpool, mortification and rage making his tone so cold that Peter almost couldn’t recognize him “You have a fucking _contract_ on him?”

Peter knew that he had to step in, or Miles would throw himself at Deadpool at any second, which could possibly end with the hero sliced in half by one of those dangerous looking katanas. And he really, really wanted to avoid that, since all that happened was just a simple lack of communication between them.

“Mi… eh, Spider-Man” Peter bit his tongue when his friend’s name almost slipped from his mouth, his mind too absorbed trying to select the best words to calm Miles, who was clenching his fists so hard it had to hurt. Peter grabbed his shoulder carefully in the silent plea for his attention and he felt when the hero’s muscle moved under his palm, fidgeting. So he was aware, good. Peter continued with a soft voice “Everything is fine, I’m okay, nothing bad happened. Deadpool didn’t do anything, in fact, he helped me. He’s not a threat now, please calm down.”

“He’s always a threat” murmured Miles, but unclenched his fists and stopped staring at the merc like he wanted to start a fight with him, so that he could turn to Peter again. The boy noted that the antihero was suspiciously silent, and tried to remember he had to mind every word coming from his mouth when speaking to Miles. He didn’t want to accidentally use his name again or do something equally bad.

Spider-Man sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose through his mask, shaking his head a little. 

“Okay, so then would you _please_ tell me, what on earth happened?” he didn’t sound reassured at all, but at least he wasn’t screaming at Deadpool anymore, so Peter guessed it had worked for now.

“I was going back home, when I was attacked by Tombstone andー”

“You were _what_?!” Miles shrieked, jumping slightly in place and then turning to spot an unconscious gangster laying on the ground a few feet away from them, looking more like a garbage bag than an actual person in those shadows. 

Judging by Miles’ body language, the hero was about to drop to his knees any second. 

“It wasn’t a coincidence, right?” he rasped out, still looking at the defeated villain. Peter knew that the answer would freak him out, but he wasn’t good at lying either, so he said nothing. Miles unfortunately knew him too well, and understood everything straight away. 

“He wanted you to tell them my identity. He has to have seen us together somehow and he figured that he could use you to get me. And he was going to torture you into telling him because of course you wouldn’t tell anything you stubborn idiot, and you would be long dead before I could even know that something was wrong, and… and… It’s my fault.” Miles sounded maniacal as he clutched his head with his hands, looking like he wanted to tangle his fingers in his hair and pull it out. “It’s all my fault because I thought that I can be Spider-Man and still keep you guys, even though I knew how dangerous it could be, I told myself that we’ll sort this out somehow, and they won’t come after you. I was living this silly dream when it was obvious it’s just a matter of time when it happens. I’m the only one to blame though, I’m reckless sometimes and I forget things and _fuck_ , It never happened to Michelle because Gwen wouldn’t ever allow it, but I have to destroy things, don’t I? Shit, maybe they’ll go after her too, maybe I gave her away somehow just like I gave you…”

“Stop it. Now.” Peter couldn’t watch his friend panicking anymore, the sight of it breaking his heart. He grabbed Miles' head in his hands and moved it gently but firmly, so he could look directly at the white spots of his mask that hid the other boy’s eyes. They were the same height and it really helped right now, as Peter leaned and touched their foreheads together, narrowing their world to just the two of them. “You’re going to breathe with me, okay? I’ll be counting, and you’re going to breathe, slowly. Now inhale” Peter commanded in his most authoritative voice, that he used to solve his friends’ arguments, read his essays or persuade his dads into leaving him more independence, since he was an adult. “And exhale, very good. Now again, inhale.”

After Miles had repeated the exercise a few times, his breathing no more shallow, Peter moved away a little, eyes still focused on him as he nodded shortly to himself. “Okay, good. Now listen to me, it’s not your fault. No,” he cut off the other boy's protests, his voice demanding and strong. “You have to stop blaming yourself. I’m in danger every time I leave my house, and most of this has nothing to do with you, you hear me? I can be assaulted for how I look like, or for who my parents are if they find out, or I can be mugged just because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time! And it’s still nothing compared to the situations you’re putting yourself into on a regular, because the only person here we should really be concerned about is you. And we are, of course, but we also know that we need to let you handle this. This time, they found me because of a stupid mistake we both made. And it won’t happen again. Because we’re going to be more careful and not because you’re going to leave me, leave us. I’m not blaming you for what happened, okay? And you also have to stop doing this, because you can't predict everything. Now come here.” Peter’s voice became a little gentler, as he pulled a dazed Miles into a hug, putting the hero’s head on his shoulder and petting it, the texture of spandex soft under his fingers.

For a moment, Miles’ regular breathing was the only sound in the alley, until a loud noise of someone clearing their throat suddenly ruined the fragile peace.

“Holy _shit_ , Spidey, you never told me that you’re dating the hottest twink in New York!”

Miles groaned, and moved out of Peter’s tight embrace, who's face was now the colour of a ripe tomato.

“You couldn’t help yourself, could you?” he snapped, but without a bite in his voice. The merc shook his head vigorously. “Nope, I waited long enough. I think I’ve never been this quiet in my _life_ , but you were having a moment with your boyfriend so…”

Miles groaned again and facepalmed himself, obviously annoyed just by the brief interaction with the antihero. “He’s NOT my boyfriend, asshole, he’s my friend. And don’t make fun of him or I’llー”

“So he’s single?” Deadpool instantly lit up like a Christmas tree, balancing on his heels like a kid with a grin visible even through the mask, attention focused only on Peter.

“Uhh” the amount of blood that floated to the boy’s cheeks was probably responsible for the emptiness of his brain right now, leaving him alone with the obligation of dealing with the ridiculousness of this situation. “I am?”

“Hey!” Miles flicked his fingers as the merc cooed, his whole body beaming. “Focus. You can’t tell anybody, that we know each other, understood? If you do, I’ll beat your ass andー”

“Spidey, spidey, spidey, why don’t you introduce me properly to your lovely friend, where are your manners?” Deadpool didn’t even look at Miles as he interrupted him again, cutting off the pointless attempts of threatening, still too absorbed by staring at Peter. 

“Are you fucking with me?” the young hero asked with disbelief, and before the merc had a chance for a stupid comment, Peter intervened. 

“It’s okay, let me. I think he deserves that much for saving my life, it’s just a name.” And then, ignoring the scandalized noise his friend made, he stepped forward toward the man and reached out a hand. “Uh, hi, I’m Peter. Thanks for your help back there, I owe you.”

Instead of shaking his hand, Deadpool took it and gently tugged higher to his mouth, where he kissed his knuckles through the fabric of his mask.

“Wade Winston Wilson at your service sweetheart.” he murmured with his lips still pressed to the boy’s skin, the hot air of his breath making Peter shiver, goosebumps forming on his forearm. “And nuh-uh, you don’t owe me anything Petey, the pleasure is all mine. Loved your small speech by the way, it was truly inspiring, ten out of ten would recommend. You seem so smart, like some kind of a small Buddah, and I mean that in a very sexy, not at all creepy way.”

“I, um, thanks?” with his hand so close to Deadpool’s face he couldn’t think as clearly as he wanted, his instincts screaming at his brain conflicted with different needs.

“Okay, that’s enough, leave my friend alone you perv.” Miles’ tone sounded tired and irritated, as he grabbed Peter by his arm to move him away from Wade’s reach. Unfortunately, he pressed one of the boy's bigger bruises and Peter winced helplessly, twitching. Miles and Wade both freezed, letting go of him in an instant. 

“Peter? You said you were okay, why are you in pain?” His friend’s voice sounded serious with worry, and Peter could almost see the well known glare in his head, with dark brows furrowed together.

“Because I am okay, it’s only a couple of bruises, nothing to worry about, I swear. A little ice will solve the problem. Lincoln also tried to break my arm, but nothing happened, and I’m just a little sore, that’s all.” He rubbed at his dress nervously, avoiding looking at his companions. He was not once, not twice, hurt more after a training with Natasha, being pampered like this when he really was fine was embarrassing. “Besides,” Peter pointed at the body still lying on the ground, completely ignored, “I think we have bigger problems.”

Miles didn’t seem convinced but still turned to look at the villain.

“Oh, right! My present!” Deadpool suddenly swat himself in the head. “You said Spidey, that you were disturbed by the Kingpin’s people on the last couple of patrols last time, and that you were worried what they might do now, so since I was in the area and I saw one of Kingpin’s lap dogs harassing some poor soul I thought why not? May as well do a favor for my favourite arachnid. And since this poor soul appears to be your very-pretty very-single friend, well, points for me am I right? Don’t tell that part about a favourite arachnid to the white spider lady though, she’s way less nice than you but I still don’t want her to be mad at me, chasing her around town is so much _fun_.”

Miles snorted quietly, half amusement, half annoyance, and then sighed. 

“Yeah, well, I won’t say anything if you’ll leave me the fuck alone on my patrols. For now, I think I need to call SHIELD. Peter, you said that he somehow knew that we’re close…”

“Yes, he had a photo of us” Peter confirmed, frowning as he remembered a crumpled photograph. If the son of Tony Stark and Captain America was unsafe, the special forces will take this case on instant, not to mention his parents that will certainly freak out about it even more than Miles did.

“Okay. Okay, not good. Shit, what a terrible way to end a week, and Fridays were supposed to be enjoyable…” the hero muttered under his breath, searching for his phone. 

Peter more felt than saw Deadpool’s presence next to him, as the man subtly moved closer. 

“Sooo, if you really wanted to repay me, sweet cheeks, how about a dinner maybe? If you want, of course. I would take you to the nicest place in town and shower you with treats, I am pretty rich, you know?” Wade used this low voice again, but Peter was now somehow more prepared for the feeling it caused, and couldn’t resist the urge to tease the man as well. 

He looked up at the merc through his lashes (Gwen once told him that even she felt something when he did this, and she was a declared lesbian since forever) and gave him his most charming smile, the one where he was sure his dimples were visible. “Oh, I know you are. I'm also pretty rich myself.”

Deadpool made a strangled noise, putting his hand over his heart. “Sweet baby Jesus on a pogo stick, you’re cute. Can I marry you? Or is it too fast? When is the optimal time to propose? Do they teach this at school or something?”

Peter laughed despite his determination to stay serious, causing Miles to pay attention to them again, his phone nowhere to be seen. 

“Would you leave him alone, please?” The young hero shifted not so subtly to once again block his friend from Wade’s vision, his protectiveness melting Peter’s heart.

“No way, I’m gonna marry this boy, have you ever heard his laugh? It’s like a fucking choir of some freakin cherubins, like I finally managed to truly die and went straight to heaven, even If that’s impossible because if I’m ever gonna die I have like, a private land in hell, I’m sure of it.”

“Oh my god, quit simping over my friend, we’re leaving. And if you don’t want to deal with the special forces, I kindly advise you to go away.” Miles rolled his eyes (at least Peter was one hundred percent sure that he did) and pulled Peter to himself with an arm around his waist.

“Wait! Can I at least get your number baby boy? Or here, take mine, call at any hour, I mean it!” He fished out a business card from his purse and handed it towards them. Miles took it and then unceremoniously threw it over his shoulder, seconds later shooting a web in the roof of the nearest building, swinging them out of the dark alley.

Last thing they heard was Deadpool’s swearing, which followed them into the evening sky as they flew between the buildings.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> edits for the fic on my instagram: yommortot

The night Peter was jumped by Tombstone, Miles stayed over after transporting them both to Parker’s apartment. It wasn’t unusual for them, he had the clothes for change for all four of his friends, always prepared for their visits. Albeit this time he wasn’t as excited as he should be to have Miles there, because he knew that the reason his friend decided to stay was that he still felt guilty of what happened.

And so they talked. About Miles’ patrols, his concerns that he didn’t tell them earlier, his apparently kind of frequent hang outs with Deadpool, about what they will tell Tony and Steve to not rile them so badly. He helped Peter with his bruises, holding ice they put on the most nasty looking ones. Checked his work-phone for any messages from SHIELD agents about Lincoln’s state and then, long after midnight they both finally went to sleep, Miles insisting on sleeping in the same room as his friend, his remorseful mood still lingering. 

Next day was hard, they both knew it would be, but it still left them tired and annoyed. Miles went to SHIELD headquarters to assist in Tombstone’s interrogation, before escorting Peter to his parent’s, walking him all the way to the door of their house. The boy himself thought it was too much of a fuss but it was worth it if his friend felt better after doing this. He really was used to overprotectiveness in his life.

And speaking of… The second he was about to pull the doorknob down, trying to come in, the doors were almost yanked off the hinges with the force someone used to open them. Before he was able to say anything, he was held in the tight embrace of Tony’s arms, grimacing as the man started to yell at him while also refusing to break the hug. It took twice more time for Peter to calm him and pop down, the three of them moving from the hall to the living room not without trouble. And when they finally managed to sit, it wasn’t any easier.

“Yes, dad, I AM sure that there’s no need for a damn bodyguard, are you serious?” Peter pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing silently the sofa he was seated on could just swallow him whole, so he could escape this absurd conversation. 

“But Peter! Things like this can happen again, and then what? Me and pop are no longer by your side to protect you every time you’re going out, and you don’t let us put a tracker in your phone! How are we supposed to know you're safe?” Despite mentally preparing for this talk a night before, Peter almost burst into hysterical laugh after Tony’s words.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“What your father wants to say,” Steve, as always, tried to pacify the conversation, holding his hands up and looking at the most important men in his life pleadingly, “is that we’re just worried sick about you, since the time stopped living with us.”

“I _freaking_ know it! You said that at least ten times today!” Peter couldn’t help himself as he snapped at Steve, regretting it almost immediately.

He really appreciated his pop’s attempts to not compound the situation, and that he always was easier to convince to his ideas than dad. He was less hot-tempered than Tony and Peter and always taken on the role of mediator when they argued. Although even he sometimes acted completely irrational and forgot how old Peter really was.

It was quiet in the room for a moment, only their breath ruining the perfect silence, as they all tried to collect themselves. Peter hated arguing with them, always feeling like a disappointment or an ungrateful, spoiled kid, but sometimes they really pushed him over the edge, especially when the topic of his “safety” was discussed. Because Peter knew that after decades of fighting villains, his fathers have full right to feel a little paranoid about their only child, a child that was very mortal and very easy to kill. He really understood that after all that happened to them and their friends, his parents were ready for nothing less than one of their old enemies coming back for a revenge, where he would be the most obvious target.

And so he didn’t blame them for all the preparations they made since the day they adopted him, when he was barely a month old. They left him his old surname so that no one could relate him with them and never showed anywhere with him in public, where they could be recognized. His parents have to sacrifice so much for him, that he really wasn’t complying. He was kind of an introverted person anyway, never liked crowds and too much attention, since he was pointed at because of his style anyway. The less the better. 

He loved his fathers more than anything and always tried to make them proud, but in the same time it’s not like he always could be perfectly obedient. He was just a human after all. And so he didn’t want them to put him in the gold cage made of their concerns and fears, no matter how comfy and exclusive they would make it. He wanted to live his life.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” Peter said after a minute, sighed and hid his face in his hands, embarrassed of his outburst. He wasn’t fifteen anymore, for fuck sake, he could have an adult conversation with his parents! “You know you can trust me, that I’ll do everything I can to not put myself in danger, right? This was just an accident. But Miles managed to arrive on time and nothing happened, I’m okay. Now they’re working to prevent something like this happening in the future, and this is what we should focus on.” Okay, so they didn’t tell all the truth about that incident, but Peter didn’t lose his mind yet. Telling them about Deadpool was just asking for troubles, bigger than he already had.

“But that’s what we’re doing! We’re trying to prevent things like it. Better safe than sorry.” Tony still sounded huffish, but now a little gentler, calmer.

“Spying on me and monitoring my every move is not keeping me safe.” Peter shook his head, looking at them. “I can meet you halfway though. How about I’ll find some time for one more hour for training with aunt Tasha and I’ll let you install a special button in my phone, that _only_ after activating would send you my current location?”

Compromises. He really mastered them after all this time.

His fathers looked at each other, Steve smiling softly at the display of Peter’s maturity, satisfied with the results of their talk. 

“Fine,” snorted Tony, poorly hiding his own relief at the turn of events, sitting less stiff in his big red armchair. Then he smirked more honestly and gestured at Peter with his arm “If you have time, I can do it now, it’d be pretty simple programming. You’d only have to delete Grindr and your nudes first. I wouldn’t want to regret seeing something nasty.”

“Oh my GOD, I’m not using that app. Please don’t say that ever again.” Peter groaned and hid his darkening cheeks in his hands, glaring at cackling Iron Man.

“You didn’t deny the nudes though.”

“Dad, you’re _unbelievable_!”

***

After spending nearly three hours in his parents house, Peter left, now with a new safety button in his phone, and minus a few of the most embarrassing photos he had in his gallery. Before he went, his dad instructed him very carefully how to use his new upgrade and activate the emergency protocol. He also solemnly swore that he didn't install any wires. 

Peter guessed that he just had to trust him. 

They hugged, preparing for the next few weeks without seeing each other (all three of them were extremely busy these days, Peter studying and his fathers doing some classified missions for SHIELD, that they couldn't talk about), casually mentioning Miles' birthday party, that was about to happen next Saturday.

"We'll be out of town anyway, may as well share this empty house for some fun starved kids. God, it has been _ages_ since I've thrown a proper party... Maybe I should stay after all? Youngins these days don't know shit about partying," Tony scratched his beard playfully, pretending to think about his idea. Peter just rolled his eyes.

"You're not that old dad, stop saying you are. And quit the threatening, I know you wouldn't want to drink with some lame college students."

"My, aren't you a sweet talker? You take after Steve,'' Iron Man batted his eyelashes at his husband comically, making both of them laugh. Peter adored that after all this time his parents still acted like lovestruck teenagers, head over heels for each other. It was heartwarming.

When they finally managed to split, dragging out their goodbye as long as they could, Peter noticed with mortification that he was going to be late on his routine training with Natasha. Saturday was his “gym day,” an idea of his parents and also one of their preparations for his future. Since he was a human, he had to protect himself somehow without super strength or the ability to fly. Although Tony admitted that he first wanted to make him a suit, but agreed with his pop, that it was too risky. They decided that for a start, they’ll try to teach him how to fight without technology support, so he could rely on his body. The obvious choice for a trainer was then Hawkeye or Black Widow, and since Clint had his own family to take care of, Natasha volunteered. After years, Peter suspected that since she couldn’t have her own children, the role of his aunt became more important to her than she would admit.

The club they were training in was an extraordinary one, built for special agents’ to use when they needed to train on their own with something that wasn't part of their training course. It was located off the main roads, in the basement of an inconspicuous looking grey building. Peter ran inwards, ten minutes late, and didn’t stop to chat with the porter, Bobby, who also used to be SHIELD agent and always complimented Peter’s outfits. He still screamed his greeting though, running down on the stairs and almost breaking his neck as he tripped over the last step. 

He paused when he reached the bottom, panting and drawing to a halt on the edge of the red mat that was panelled on the floor.

“You’re late.” Said the seemingly cold voice and Peter straightened a little, spotting his aunt standing on the left, muscular arms crossed on her chest.

“I know, I’m sorry. Was visiting dads and I overstayed.” He grimaced, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. Then he looked around and noticed three pairs of dumbbells laying on the ground. “Someone’s joining us?”

They always reserved the whole gym to themselves, feeling more comfortable with the knowledge, that no one could notice the familiarity between them or eavesdrop their conversations. It wasn’t unusual for Black Widow to train with new recruits, but surely no one was accustomed to the sight of her ruffling someone's hair or hugging anyone. She had a reputation to keep, and Peter identity to hide, they agreed it was for the best.

“Yeah, me you asshole.”

Gwen closed the door that led to the women's changing room, her face a mixture of annoyance and relief. “Glad you finally showed, was worried that yesterday’s events happened again.”

Peter grimaced and shook his head. 

“You can’t babysit me to the rest of my life just because _once_ someone managed to take me by surprise. Please. We all knew that it was gonna happen either way. Besides,” he reached into his pocket and held out his phone, “dad updated some safety protocols so I’ll be able to call for help immediately if something happens. I’m _fine_.”

Gwen looked like she wanted to argue, but Natasha clapped her hands loudly. 

“One minute to change out of that fancy dress and then you’re gonna drag your ass over here to tell us about yesterday, because there’s no way I’m gonna believe in the bullshit Miles tried to give me.”

Peter mumbled something inaudible and went to the locker room, aware of the clock ticking.

Exactly one minute and fifteen seconds later he was back, now in shorts and tank top, with shoes in his hand, leaving them on the edge of the mat as he walked over to where Gwen and Natasha were already stretching.

“So” his aunt quirked her eyebrow and cracked her neck, looking Peter straight in the eyes. “Care to share what is Deadpool’s role in this whole charade?”

Peter almost sputtered, not prepared for question that direct, which was probably a stupid mistake. Natasha knew everything. Always. There was no point in trying to hide anything before her.

Judging by the look Gwen threw at him, what Miles told her was also a version stripped of details. Great, just great.

“Okay, first of all, thanks for covering me with dads. You know they would lose their shit if they knew, and secondly, it’s not like anything big happened. Just, you know, the truth is that he was the one who saved me, not Miles.” Peter sighed as he bent over to his toes, his flexibility measuring up to Gwen’s (and all without spider powers!). “I don’t know why you would make such a big deal about this.”

“Maybe because he’s a serial killer? And is like, far more of a threat than Tombstone?” Gwen’s eyebrows were frowned together, as she stared at him with something unreadable in her blue eyes, tone slightly sarcastic. “You ever thought why someone like _him_ decided to help you?”

“He said he was nearby and just wanted to help Spider-Man get rid of one of his enemies.” Peter couldn’t hold back the defensiveness in his voice.

“And you what, believed him? Just like that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Peter tried not to speak too loud, don’t liking at all the disbelief in his friend's tone. “I know what I saw okay? It’s not like he even took Lincoln with him. He would if it was his contract. He just helped me and then called Miles, promising him a surprise if he came. He didn’t do a single thing for me to not believe his honest intentions. He might be weird, I admit, but he seemed to be with Miles on good terms. He was completely different from what I heard about him from you,” he said, glaring between his aunt and a little wordless Gwen.

“Okay, so you have a kind heart and genuinely believe that other people follow the same morals as you, and that they don’t take any profits from their actions, because a right thing to do is a right thing to do. We already knew that; you’re Steve’s son.” Natasha sounded equally fond and worried, when she sat on the ground to stretch in different positions. Her eyes however, were sharp as she continued. “But you do forget, that one good thing cannot wash out the past. Especially, when it’s not just past, but present as well. Deadpool is still taking contracts, killing people and making a mess in general. That should be enough for you to not defend him, just because he accidentally saved you while playing his own games.”

Peter knew that she was right. That he really should feel more concerned about all that happened, about Deadpool interest in him, even if brief. This was dangerous and could end badly, and what he needed to do was to listen to people he knew his whole life, and not a man he crossed his paths with for just five minutes. 

The problem is, the small, traitorous part of his brain didn’t want to. And Peter didn’t know why, and what it meant, and if it was really something he should rethink or maybe throw to the darkest corner of his mind and forget it ever existed. 

“I’m not saying he’s a saint.” Peter also sat on the mat, straightening his legs and reaching to his feet, avoiding eye contact with both of the women. “I’m just not making a serious business of this, and that’s all. You guys hate him so much I thought that if I ever meet him, it would be… in _a lot_ different circumstances. And then he saves me, acting like some parody of Gwen and Miles. I couldn’t hate him or fear him even if I wanted to!” He was mad at himself for feeling like this but it was the truth. He knew that everybody around him was truly distressed about what happened, but he somehow wasn't. Like, okay the first few seconds when he saw Deadpool he _was_ scared, but it was more caused by the situation he was experiencing. Then everything changed when the man opened his mouth and joked a few times, gave him and Miles space, turned out to be a friend of Spider-Man and well, flirted with him. Just this short but intense event was enough for Peter to completely modify the way he thought, leaving him with mixed feelings and so many questions.

“You’re too pure for your own good,” sighed Gwen. “Can’t be mad at you even if I want to, you big sap. At least you have us to watch over you. Who knows, maybe if not for our presence you would go straight to Kingpin’s office and try to kill him with your kindness.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Fuck you.”

“Hey, watch it,” Natasha flicked him in the nose, a half amused smile finally softening her face a little. “I was going to spare you boxing today, since I guess you’re still sore but I might change my mind, so behave.”

“Ugh, that means only crossfit today?” Peter whined, the exercises focused on building muscles never was his favourite, since he somehow still managed to be incredibly lean after years of practice. Of course he _was_ muscled, but he wasn’t even close to the bulkiness that, for example, Deadpool had, the musculature that was really drool-worthy andー

“Yes, Peter, only crossfit. Gwen is not complaining so be a good boy too and maybe we’ll end faster and order chinese. How does this sound?” Oh, his aunt knew him way too well. To bribe him with food? Low move.

“You make a convincing argument,” Peter grinned, and continued his warmup.

***

The whole week was a blur for Peter, days merged together leaving only unclear memories of his classes, attempts to sleep and phone calls. He needed to do so many phone calls, oh god! But it was important to think about everything as they prepared Miles’ party. That means, someone had to find a DJ, some good catering and decorations, buy alcohol and hire a team of cleaners, who’ll first move the needles furniture from the dancing area into other rooms and then make sure to come the next day for cleaning in general. Peter’s fathers told him to pay the team double, and since they sponsored it, he wasn't complaining.

Instead he was tired. But it was worth it, because the day before the event, when they were celebrating first in just their circle, he had it all perfectly planned and organized, the excitement making him feel almost stupid, since it wasn’t even his birthday. But it was Miles’, and he really wanted his friend to appreciate the effort they put into this, limiting his work to just making a list of requests. 

“Man, I thought that on your birthday we’d go, I don’t know, eat sushi or something and not pizza again. I love this joint but still.”

“It was Miles' choice so shut up Ned and wish him a happy birthday.”

“You know MJ, you give me a lot of mixed signals.”

Peter made a strange sound, something between laughing and groaning, as he hid his face in hands. “Can you two calm down for five seconds, we were about to celebrate the touching speech I just gave, and now you completely ruined it. Sorry Miles, don’t listen to them, think about my words, how we love you and how we’re glad that we met and─”

“... because you know, technically, if you wanted me to shut up I wouldn’t be able to also wish him happy birthday at the same time, it would make my brain screenshot itself or worse.” 

“Good thing there’s nothing to worry about, something that doesn’t exist can’t be broken.” Michelle pat Ned’s arm, completely ignoring Peter’s murderous stare.

He _just_ made the whole speech after they all sang Happy Birthday to Miles, and Ned and MJ destroyed the mood it set, the (he personally thought) truly moving words forgotten. But Miles seemed to like it anyway, now just laughing quietly at the sight of his friends bantering like they always did. Despite the joyful atmosphere, the boy looked also visibly weary and Peter bit his lip debating with himself if he should ask about it or let him pretend in peace. Mercifully, it was Gwen who saved him from this decision as she put down the cola she was drinking and donned a face that meant she was gonna be serious.

“Is everything okay Miles? Don’t get me wrong, you always look fantastic, but you could also use some sleep from time to time, you know?”

Miles snorted and shook his head, smiling a little more bitterly. 

“If it was up to me, I would. But this week was fucking crazy, and I swear if I hear one more time about Peter’s eyes, I’m gonna go balistic.”

“Wait, what the fuck?” Even Ned and MJ stopped arguing at this, focusing back at their friend. “The hell, who would talk to you about Peter’s eyes?”

“Try to guess.” Miles lifted his eyebrows and looked at Gwen with expectation, causing Peter’s heart to make a funny move in his chest.

“It can’t be…” he mumbled to himself at the same time as Michelle coughed loudly in disbelief.

“Are we talking about the fucking Deadpool or am I imagining things right now? Please tell me I’m imagining things.”

“Nope, unfortunately.” The young hero shook his head confirming their assumptions. 

“Wait, wait, wait, hold on, just one thing. Why the fuck would this crazy murderous dude talk about his eyes?” asked Ned, pointing at Peter with a quizzical expression.

“Because apparently, when a week ago he helped Peter he also got a massive crush on him and to my misery, I’m the only one who can get him any information about his ‘future husband’ so he won’t leave me the fuck alone on my patrols. I’m going insane! How often can you ask one person about your crush's favourite colour before you get tired? Or their number? I couldn’t get rid of him, he could find me anywhere in just the mere minutes, it was total madness! And when I finally gave up on running from him I tried to ignore his presence but that was impossible as well. Fucking hell, he wanted to trade with me can you believe? One fact about Peter for his help with the bank robbery, what kind of deal is that?”

Peter’s eyes wes probably comically wide as Miles stopped talking, but he couldn’t help it. He swallowed his dry throat a few times, trying to clear his mind and think about anything smart to say that didn’t begin with a stream of curses. “And you… did it? I mean, trade with him?”

“No, of course not, Jesus. I wouldn’t do it without your permission, who do you think I am?” Miles sounded offended so Petter quickly shook his head.

“I didn’t mean it like that, of course you'd never, I trust you, sorry. It’s just… if it was only my favorite colour and the crap like that I think I… wouldn’t mind? Or it was something more?” Peter really prayed that he didn’t sound too eager for the information he secretly craved, but didn’t know how to ask without creeping out his friends.

“Oh, no, definitely not only your favorite colour.” Miles sounded sarcastic as he reached out his hand and started to count. “Also your favourite film, actor, book, breed of a dog, meal, cake, flavour of ice cream, tv show, coffee from starbucks, ship, music band, game and season. I’m not counting the amount of questions about your number, social media or type of men you date, because we’ll be here until tomorrow.”

Now everyone was speechless, the sounds of other people in the restaurant dulled in the background of the scenery, as they all looked at each other.

“It’s… sweet?” said Peter timidly, regretting it almost instantly as his friends stared at him like he just declared he was going to quit college and start the career as a fire eater. Or maybe they would be less surprised if he said exactly that.

“You’re joking right now, aren’t you?” asked Michelle, slowly articulating each word, and Peter felt his cheeks burning.

“Uh, I mean, um…”

“You do realize we’re talking about Deadpool now, right?” Gwen also seemed to have the urge to check, her eyes full of disbelief. “And you understand that it’s like, really not good when a paid mercenary becomes stalkerish about you?”

“If it was someone else you wouldn’t call it that,” he accused her, feeling a little childish as he did.

“Yeah?” She said like he was dumb, covering her eyes with her elbow. “For god’s sake, if it was one of Miles’ friends I wouldn't have said a damn word, but it’s a freaking Deadpool!”

“But Deadpool is a friend of Spider-Man, so why is it different?” Peter was probably the colour of MJ’s red converse, as he desperately tried to get out of this weird situation he put himself into. He turned to Miles. “Because you are friends, right? He said he even had your number…”

“He has what?” Gwen’s voice was a little high pitched, causing Miles to blush too.

“Well, uh, we are sort of pals, I think? It’s generous to call this relationship that, seriously, but if you’re stubborn…” He saw Peter’s look and cursed. “Fuck, okay. I talked with Peter about it and now I think I need to also talk with you too, since it all came out like this but… Yeah I hang out with Deadpool sometimes, as a Spider-Man, of course. He’s mostly just bored and wants to mess with me but can be helpful too, if nudged in the right direction. It’s not like I like him or anything, just… Fuck.” Miles rubbed his neck, not looking them in the eyes, focused on some stain on the table before him. “He kind of… knows how I look without my mask?”

“He knows WHAT?” This time all four of them shrieked, making the half of the restaurant stare at them. Okay, _this_ Miles didn’t tell Peter earlier. The boy felt his head spin, and judging by the other’s expressions, they felt similar. Gwen’s face was almost as white as her spider-suit.

“When...” she rasped, her eyes widely open. “Was it when you…?”

“Yeah,” Miles sighed, finally looking up at them quickly, before he dropped his gaze back down. “Four months ago, when I was seriously injured in a collapsing building. He was the one who pulled me out of the debris, being there completely by accident. My mask was torn and I was unconscious so… yeah, he knew how I looked. And called the right people to come and get me. And didn’t do shit about my identity, even if he could. So… yeah, the least I could do after that was to let him follow me on my patrols and eat some tacos with him during breaks. I still wouldn’t call us friends, I don’t trust him completely and he’s as annoying as he’s crazy, but we do make some sort of weird partners. I think. I’m not sure how he feels about this relationship.”

They were silent for a moment, processing the new information. Finally Gwen shakes her head again and groaned.

“So that’s why you’ve been avoiding me so much on patrols lately. And I just thought you were mad or were going through a phase of a lone wolf or something… And it was all because you hung out with a killer. Yeah, I don’t know what to think about it.”

“I didn’t want him near the people I care about!” Miles’ expression was pained as he glared at Gwen pleadingly. “I didn’t trust him, _still_ don’t trust him enough and I thought that keeping you away at night would be for the best. I was already going mad from fear wondering if he’ll see me one day with you in the civilian clothes and figure everything out. He’s way more intelligent than you’d think, even if nuts.”

There was silence again, Peter’s brain paradoxically quiet too, the amount of revelations leaving him dumbfounded. A life of a superhero was truly a path full of self-sacrifices, his dads were the best example of it, but the news that Miles was struggling because of it too? And didn’t say anything at all? Peter tugged a thread on his skirt mindlessly, looking up at his friends. They all did the same, and so they sat for a while just staring at each other.

“Man,” Ned’s voice sounded so damn sad it was hilarious “did we just ruin your birthday?” 

The tension that started to be unbearable finally broke as they burst into hysterical laughter. 

“No, not really, but I admit a pizza place isn’t the best place to have conversations like this,” said Miles, still giggling and looking like some weight was removed from his shoulders. So it _was_ troubling him, probably more that he was ready to admit. Peter wanted to hug him.

“I don’t remember what we were talking about before.” Michelle snorted and covered her eyes with her hands. “Babe?”

“I think it was that Peter for some unknown reason is seriously considering whether he should or shouldn’t bang the most dangerous person in the world.” Gwen rushed with an answer, helpful as always. Peter choked on his own tongue.

“What?!” Despite his outraged tone his friends only laughed harder. “I’m not thinking about fucking Deadpool, the hell? Now I’m sure I just dreamt this whole discussion, thanks.”

Miles shook his head, grinning. “Bro, we know your type. We know that you defend him only because those big muscles messed with your head, and that you actually liked the fantasy about the hero who rescued you.”

“True.” Ned nodded, sighing theatratically. “But I must admit, thirsting over _that_ guy? You have balls, Parker.”

“Fuck you. Fuck. You. Honestly, you’re the worst, I’m not even joking.” Peter slipped on his chair, now only his betrayed stare visible over the edge of the table.

“Okay, okay, oh my god, stop pouting,” Gwen brushed the tear from the corner of her eye, smiling. "We’re just teasing you, princess, no need to bitch about it.”

“Albeit the first thing is not a joke” Michelle pointed her finger at the ceiling, quirking her eyebrow. “You _do_ need to get laid, it’s sad to watch as your hormones riot.”

“I hate you all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrate it!
> 
> I'm extremely grateful for every single comment and kudos, THANK YOU. It keeps me going.
> 
> Next chapter will be more fun, I promise, I know you miss Deadpool, just wait a little longer, it will be worth it I swear.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> y'all better go check [ Turnip ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimidTurnip) bc she's a wonderful beta and this chapter wouldn't come out if not her!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry you waited for so long, Happy New Year and enjoy the chapter, another will be sooner I swear!!

Bass from the currently playing song was almost echoing in Peter’s bones. He grinned, swaying his whole body to it, throwing his head back and laughing at nothing in particular, just the display of pure joy.

He felt dizzy, his senses overwhelmed, and mind completely free of any thoughts. After the whole week of planning and stressing over details, he could finally make use of his work and take the rest he deserved.

After another long minute of dancing he felt thirsty and decided to go find something to drink from the hidden reserves he and his friends made. It wasn’t like they served some shitty alcohol to their guests, just that not all of them had access to Miles’ birthday brandy from Iron Man himself, or like in Peter’s case, to the aloe drink he prepared for himself earlier. In his opinion, the amount of liquids they brought were generous enough.

He forced his way through the dancing people around him, warm and kind of sticky bodies touching him accidentally as he walked. Normally a crowd that big would make him a little uncomfortable, but this time it was different because of the alcohol swimming in his veins, and the main lamps that were comfortable dulled. Instead colorful, stroboscopic lights were everywhere, making it almost impossible to distinguish the faces of people around him, all of them moving, no one really paying attention to the surroundings. 

Peter finally left the dance floor, giggling to himself as he readjusted his clothes. He was dressed in his hottest dress, the one he would never wear in public if not the certainty that the other participants of the event will be decently intoxicated. Gwen once said that he looked “fuckable”, and he stuck to this, knowing his friends would never lie to him about his appearance. 

It was a plain black dress, made of soft velvet that shined and wrapped around his body like a second skin. He wasn’t the most curved person in the world, but it still looked nice on him, his slim waist displayed. It ended a little higher than the middle of his thigh and had thin straps that tickled his exposed shoulders, but looked very pretty and helped to keep up the material. He felt really powerful wearing it and wished he had more occasions for it. The outfit was completed with a pair of black stilettos, a gift from Shuri on his birthday. She designed and made them, accomplishing the impossible and making actual comfortable high heels. They were also black with red soles, which in Peter’s opinion looked incredibly good and sexy. They made his legs look sinful, highlighting their slenderness. 

Shuri’s stilettos somehow weren’t digging into the flesh of his feet, which made the whole night a pleasurable and not traumatic experience. It was a true gift worth all the money in the world. He advised her to patent it and start selling, but she said that she still needed a little more tests on their strength, so for now he was the only person with the exclusive prototypes. 

To sum up, he looked and felt great tonight. It was actually more dazing than the champagne he drank, but maybe it wasn’t fair to compare this since he only had like a one and a half glass. The party started only three hours ago and was now in full swing. He wanted to stay sober and have fun for as long as he could, but apparently he was alone in this idea. Wherever he looked, other students were already pretty intoxicated, smiling absentmindedly and laughing too loud. Well, he was taught how to drink by uncle Thor and aunt Tasha, so he wasn’t planning to lose control soon. He only wanted the effect of buzzing in his head, just like now, the sweet calmness and amusement that didn’t disturbed his perfect balance as he went through the room.

He walked in his heels like a Victoria's Secret model, no matter what his condition was. He took pride in it, really. He was truly unmatched in his grace, and even Gwen admitted that she barely could stand in her stilettos while using spider-powers, and she didn’t know how she would do it without them. Her respect for Peter doubled since she discovered his skill. 

Finally he got to the minibar that was situated on the opposite end of the room, that now looked like the inside of an average club. Looking around he couldn’t believe his own eyes, on how much the whole place changed, his own living room unrecognizable with the amount of people flocked together in it.

There was a DJ station placed on a platform along one of the walls of the room. The woman behind the console making the amazing music, not once disappointing Peter with the hits she chose. He and the guests around him almost pulsed in time with the rhythm of thundering music like one organism. 

The three minibars that they installed for this party weren’t small either, and yet it all somehow fit inside. Including the crowd of drunk students where everybody took twice the amount of space they would normally without moving like an angry octopus and calling it dancing. Peter was impressed by the size of the house, even if it was his own not that long ago. Did he really forget that by living in his one bedroom apartment? God, that would be sad.

Peter leaned over the minibar and searched for the safe that was placed behind one of the shelves of the minibar. He hummed with contentment when he found it. He wrote the right combination of numbers quickly and then drew out the bottle of aloe drink with a happy smile, instantly removing the cap and drinking half of it in one go. Damn, he was thirsty. 

He placed the drink on one of the tables, not really caring about it, as his fogged brain focused on other things once his thirst was quenched. When was the last time he saw any of his friends anyway? The house was huge, sure, but not so much that he couldn’t find them if he wanted. He remembered that at the beginning they stuck together, trying to welcome the guests that came, but soon it was so many people coming that they decided to split and Peter wanted to dance and… 

...and yeah, there he was, without the slightest idea where they were. He wasn't going to panic as he normally would though, it was his house and in a second he could just open one of the secret doors that would lead him to his old bedroom where he would go to sleep or calm down. There were so many hidden safe-rooms here, his fathers took care to make the house where their son was growing up a true fortress. Something as petty as a party couldn’t scare him here, and so he planned to just stop worrying and let himself loose more than he normally would surrounded by the people he didn’t know.

Thinking about it a little, Ned mentioned something about finding Betty Brand and trying his luck in asking her out. Great, that means Peter definitely didn’t want to find him now. Watching his friend’s attempts at flirting wasn’t an activity he could do with so little alcohol in his system. 

Peter felt like he was sobering up again, and that was definitely not good. So he needs a new plan. First, find some champagne, and then find his friends. Perfect.

He walked in the direction he last saw an unopened bottle (or at least he thought he did, it could have just been his imagination), and weaved between the strangers on his way. He knew that Miles was a popular and social guy, but he still was impressed by the number of guests that came. Of course he let them invite whoever they wanted to, but Peter’s circle of friends really only incorporated Gewn, MJ, Ned and Miles, and a few superheroes that now were more like family. And please, who’s inviting their own uncle to a party when they’re wearing the sluttiest clothes they have? Nope, he still had some dignity to preserve.

Someone nudged him accidentally with elbow, and he leaned away, not stopping to listen to clumsy apologies or a curse that would be thrown in his way. He hummed to himself along with the first notes of “Toxic” by Britney Spears and looked around, searching for the champagne that he was almost sure should lay exactly on this table…

But instead, what he found was Gwen and MJ basically glued to each other, their dresses crumpled as they lazily made out, the dark corner hiding them partially from the curious glances.

“Geez, six inches for the Holy Spirit you animals, do you have any respect for my poor eyes?” Peter grumbled without heat, leaning on the wall next to them. 

Gwen shifted a little from Michele, not bothering with taking her hands from where they were stroking her girlfriend’s waist and thighs and rolled her eyes at him. “Oh my god, chill, we’re not going to fuck.”

Michelle looked at her with genuine surprise. “We’re not?”

“I mean,” Gwen stared back at her and tilted her head, small grin on her face, “unless you want to?”

“Stop abusing my ears, I don’t want to hear about your sex life, gross.” Peter pouted his lower lip and frowned at them, simulating disgust as he barely kept back laughter. “If I hear what you do in my parents bedroom I’m going to never hang out with you again.”

“Not a problem, we were actually going to fuck in your bed anyway.” Michelle bared her teeth in a wide smile, simultaneously with Gwen giggling.

“I’m officially unfriending you both” Peter huffed but smiled too, leaving off the facade of outraged expression. Both girls draw apart more so that they could face him, hands still on each other.

“You’re cranky, that means you’re sobering. Go find some beer and leave us alone, would you?” Gwen showed him her tongue, and in the flickering lights Peter could see that part of her lipstick was smeared on her chin.

“Woah, that actually explains why _you_ act like a bitch all the time, can’t get drunk and all that” he bit back, still mindful of the words he used, to not give away the secret identity of his friend by acting reckless.

“Bullshit, of course I can. Did you see Miles? I think he drank at least half of the alcohol we prepared to stay drunk. He’s making a toast with every person that challenges him, and thanks to this, now I’m one hundred percent sure that I can in fact get drunk. It just takes me a lot more liquids than you and it doesn’t last long. I’m not testing my limits today like him, though.” Gwen made a face that told him a lot about the state his friend was right now, and he made a mental note to prepare a lot of painkillers for the next day. He wasn’t sure if the young hero could have a hangover, but if he really was incessantly drinking since the party started, and wasn’t planning to stop any time soon, some effects were likely to show.

“Now, if you wouldn’t mind… we were in the middle of something that you wouldn’t like to see so... “ Michelle dragged the last syllabes looking at him expectantly, brows lifted up.

“Yeah, yeah, I remember, no need to be rude. Just please go to some guest rooms, but in case you wouldn’t listen, I’ll tell JARVIS to watch over you perverts.” They both flicked him off and walked away laughing, their hands linked. Peter looked after them as they left, his smile fading a little. 

He loved them and wished the girls all the best, remembering what they both needed to go through to find themselves at this point. The years of pining and denying their feelings, the long time they spent in the friendzone that was unbearable for the rest of them, until they decided to end the bullshit and just try to be happy together. They visibly felt something towards each other since the day they met, but back then they were all in high school, and everything was complicated. Gwen and Miles were new in their school, transferred by SHIELD after they found out about the powers they suddenly gained. It was easier to keep an eye on them like that, when they were closer to the organizations’ quarters and put in the private school patrons by Stark Industry, which was also attended a lot of kids of special agents and superheroes. Or like in Michelle and Ned’s case, just some of really smart teenagers with abnormally good grades. And that’s how they meet. Soon they all became inseparable, united by shared secrets and loyalty.

And for all three of them it was obvious how much Gwen and Michelle pinned for each other. But they swore to themselves that besides the small hints, they wouldn’t intervene, letting them go at their own pace. It took them a little longer that they would suspect, but they still were happy it happened anyway. Both girls had strong attachment issues, what they really needed to work on, and Peter was proud to find them living in the moment when they didn’t want to hide their relationship and that they had no problems displaying their affection, teasing one another in public. Even two years ago he wouldn’t have guessed that it was possible.

And so he had all of this in mind, really, but it still didn’t hold back the awful jealousy that he couldn’t help but feel sometimes when he looked at them. Peter hasn’t had one normal relationship in his entire life. Just some one night stands with people who found him attractive for five minutes when the alcohol was buzzing in their veins and the mood in the club was favourable enough. But in the morning they all unwillingly admit that he was just… too much. Too weird or too femine, too skinny, too weak, too awkward. He heard a lot of different adjectives and the sad thing was, no matter how many times he heard that it still hit him hard. And no matter how many times he heard it, he always somehow picked from the crowd the same type dudes who did it, who eventually hurt him because he still thought that this time it’ll be different, this time he won't be rejected for sure and this guy won’t be another asshole, and he would take him home and learn to love him and…

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing himself to stop the pathetic train of thoughts. Michelle was right in telling him that he needed to get laid to calm his hormones and touch starved soul, as he hadn’t slept with anyone for so long it felt like centuries. And Gwen was right too, he was sobering, and that meant the gloomy thoughts were taking over his mind with full force. He was supposed to have fun for god’s sake! He was supposed to let loose and let himself spend a night without worrying about everything, damn you, Parker!

He angrily approached one of the tables and took the glass of champagne that looked untouched the most and swallowed a few gulps. 

He was going to bang someone and it didn’t matter who. The first person that he would come across was fine, really. He just needed to clear his head, to forget he was lonely, forget that people found him odd and abnormal. He wanted to feel pretty, feel cherished, feel important in a way that only a lover could do, in the way that family wasn’t enough to appease. 

It didn’t matter that in the morning his partner would throw all those hurtful words at him, or just a look, the disappointed and a little ashamed one that made his skin crawl. It didn’t matter because this time Peter will leave before the other person wakes up. This time he’ll just take what he wants, what he needs, and disappear before another charming prince will became a stupid prick. Yes, that plan felt just right and Peter relaxed. It somehow calmed him, the acknowledgement making his heart less heavy, his head more light. He felt like he had his control back, and like this his previous goal to let loose without worrying about anything was easier to achieve.

He raised his head, looking around thoughtfully, drink in his hand. It was time to pick the candidate then.

Peter thought about all the people he saw today who didn’t look at him with disgust or shock, and quickly made a short list.

Okay so there was the ginger man, looking like a textbook himbo, who stared at Peter’s butt unashamedly as he danced. Maybe his stare was a little mindless, but that only worked for Peter’s benefit. It would be a lot easier to fuck someone like him, to cut to the chase without any small talk or a polite introduction, that would only mess with his head. The next person was this brunet who looked a little older than the rest of the people there, with the short beard and nice looking biceps. They weren't the most ripped arms he had ever seen (not even in the top twenty, that’s what you get by living among superheroes), but he smiled at Peter once when he was pouring himself a drink and that’s what mattered. There was also one girl with white, probably dyed hair, and a black suit instead of a dress. She had winked at him and licked her lips, that counted as _definitely interested_ , woah. Even though Peter was gay, he wouldn’t deny a good peg from a girl if he felt like it. Tonight was not the day though. All he could think about was a hard fuck from a man who would use him, hold him down with his strong arms and just pound into him until he screamed. Not that he even got to have a sex that good, but a man can dream, right?

Was there anyone else? Peter browsed through his hazy memories from the evening, swirling the glass in his hand absently. There was one blonde man too. But just by looking at him the boy knew that the unpleasant morning routine was likely to repeat. It was in the man's face, the arrogant smirk, the way his eyes seemed to strip him from his dress with only his stare. Peter remembers the shiver that caused, not exactly a pleasant one, but full of promises anyways. And wasn’t that just what he wanted? He was sure the man would fuck him roghly, exactly like he needed, making him feel it for days after. And it was enough. He wouldn’t count on the tender aftercare anyway, he would be long gone before the man would even take a chance to hurt him with his rejection, with the archly look he would throw at him. Yes, that’s the one he was going to find again tonight, he made his decision. It doesn’t matter that this man is exactly the type he shouldn’t pick, he didn't care anymore. What he needed is just a little more alcohol for courage and then everything would be fine and─

“Peeeter where have you beeen? Didn’t see you the whooole party!” Suddenly his back is full of Miles, who carelessly hung himself over him with all of his body weight. The impact almost knocked Peter down, but he managed to stay on his feet and didn’t even spill his drink. But it was close.

“What the fuck Miles you want to give me a heart attack?” He clutched his free hand to his chest, and turned to his friend carefully, watching out to not stumble as the boy was still leaning mostly on him. 

Miles’ smile was a bit too wide, pupils dilated. He was definitely wasted, just as Gwen said.

“Bro, how much did you drink? You were not this wasted on your twenty first birthday, and that means something.” Peter carefully examined the people around them, to see if anyone was eavesdropping, but luckily no one paid them any attention, focused on their own selves. The boy leaned a little to the young hero and murmured, “Did you fucking break your spider powers or something?”

Miles laughed like he just heard the funniest joke in the universe, folding back dangerously and causing Peter to lurch forward, as he grabbed him by his forearm in the last moment before the hero toppled.

“Nahhh, I just want to have fun! But they won’t let me!” Miles looked at his own body and frowned, completely ignoring the fact that he was tipped back in an uncomfortable position, held in place only by Peter’s strength. “I feel it fighting against me, and I need to drink a lot aaaaall the time. I went pee at least six times!” he huffed, his annoyed tone making him sound like a resentful toddler. 

Peter sighed loudly and took a step back, pulling Miles with him. He searched for a chair he could use and when he found one a few steps away, he dragged his giggling friend to it and sat him up unceremoniously. The young hero didn’t protest, only laughed more and leaned on the piece of furniture more comfortably, grinning at Peter.

“I have nooo idea who those folks are,” said Miles, looking at the dancing people in front of him and cackling again. Peter raised his eyebrows at this, thinking he misheard something.

“What? Miles what the hell are you talking about, those are your guests” he furrowed his brows and squated next to his friend, champagne still in hand.

“I mean.” Miles looked at him confidentially, his face a mask of fake seriousness, “that I… _accidentally_ sent a message to like, half of my contact list inviting the people I don’t really know here. Not that I mind it but they could at least buy me something.” He sulked.

“Oh my god.” Peter covered his mouth with his hand, eyes widening. He got up and grabbed Miles again, shaking him gently. “Dude, focus. Are you joking right now? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Nooo,” Miles laughed again and moved out of Peter’s reach, spreading his arms and almost knocking down the bottle of alcohol that was situated on the table next to him. “I mean, okay I lied, it wasn’t an accident, Cassie set me up. She said that there's no way I’m gonna do it, so I think we aaall can agree, that it’s actually her fault.” Miles ended his statement visibly proud of his logic, and Peter could only laugh.

Because fuck it. Why should he be concerned about it? He didn’t want to worry again, he wanted to finally get drunk, dance wildly and maybe fuck a stranger. Miles’ confession didn’t change anything. It just explained why there were so many people, more than Peter remembered inviting. 

And wasn’t it great? Less chances that he’ll somehow bump into his one night stand when waiting for Miles at the academy or something, there were no downsides.

And so he smiled, all teeth and dimples, saluting his friend with his drink. “Why not make use of this terrible mistake, then?”

He didn’t see the person who approached them sidewise, until they both heard the deep gravelly voice that couldn’t be confused with anyone else. “Oh, dear gods in heavens, I thought I’d never see that perfect smile again, I had to be a saint in a past life!”

And Peter’s world froze, the music faded down, and all he could hear was his own heart beating rapidly. This couldn’t be real. He had to have passed out from the amount of alcohol he drank and now he was hallucinating very real and very detailed projections. But as he slowly turned to his left, pinching his own thigh to make sure he was not sleeping, even though he knew that it’s not his imagination. His mind wouldn’t make something that absurd like the sight in front of him by itself, there was just no way.

Because right next to them in the corner of the living room where there were countless unaware students dancing in the flashing colorful lights stood the most dangerous mercenary in the world, wearing a freaking suit. 

“Deadpool? What the fuck are you doing here?” Miles’ voice was absolutely surprised, and it sounded like his tongue wasn't cooperating with his brain correctly. Peter although was only able to look at Wade, who in response didn’t take his eyes off him too, as he handed a small package in Miles' direction. He still wore his costume, but without any visible weapon on, katanas and his belt with guns missing. Instead, he had a tuxedo on top, along with the black tie that looked almost mocking. The jacket clinged to the antihero’s arms looking like it was about to tear, big muscles stretching the material in a way the leather didn’t show, making Peter’s mouth water. 

“What?” Deadpool sounded distracted, his head still facing Peter, who blushed suddenly, remembering what he was wearing. “Well, you invited me yourself, don’t you remember? I have the details in the text you sent, sorry if the present sucks, you gave me like, thirty minutes to find anything.”

Oh. Of course. Of course Miles sent it to Deadpool too, Peter’s life just couldn’t be easy for one fucking night.

“Wow, thanks man, you didn’t have to.” Miles enthusiastically reached for the package and Peter’s head snapped to him, watching in disbelief as his friend opened the poorly wrapped wad of money. The hero had to be more intoxicated than Peter previously thought if he really just willingly accepted something the merc gave him. He felt like his temples started to ache.

“Yeah, it’s your birthday so I think I disagree.” Wade still sounded distant, eyes glued to Peter. The boy sighed and stepped forward, leaving Miles behind as he started to clumsy count the bills, his attention leaving the men in front of him instantly. 

“Uh, hey” Peter started, and almost cringed at the high pitched notes in his voice. Get a grip on yourself Parker, there’s a serial killer in front of you, don’t get distracted! Well, okay, maybe this killer saved you and saved your friend before and probably helped a lot of New Yorkers too but… okay, shit, those are distracting thoughts, fuck. 

Peter pinched himself again and tried once more, smiling thinly and gesturing with his head. “Can’t believe no one started screaming yet.” Yeah, this one was smooth, totally nailed it.

To Wade’s credit, he didn’t look at all bothered by Peter’s foot in the mouth syndrome, quite the opposite. He almost beamed as the boy drew closer, and took a step forward himself, leaving only the small gap between their bodies, the distance making Peter’s head spin. “You don’t believe in my undeniable charm, baby boy? A shame, truly. Those hurtful words when I just managed to get a look on that gorgeous body I waited for so long to see again…” Deadpool sighed dreamingly, propping his chin with his palm theatrically.

Peter reddened but also smiled more freely despite his still present nerves. He felt like his shoulders relaxed a little, the playful attitude of the man somehow calming. He couldn’t be really frightened when someone compliments him in _that_ tone, not really.

“It’s not the lack of charm, Wade, I just think it’s really hard to overlook you even with the lights dulled like this. You're not exactly the size of an average man,” he purred, and almost instantly felt the urge to punch himself in the face. What. The fuck. Was he really just awkwardly flirting with Deadpool? What the hell happened to his self preservation?

“Uh, sorry Bambi, can you please repeat the second part of what you just said, I think my brain short circuited when you said my name looking like that.” The merc shrugged helplessly, sounding like he was smiling apologetically. 

Peter giggled, his cheeks warm. He couldn’t help himself a little flexing, putting his free hand on his hip, head tilted.

“Are you trying to seduce me, sir?” he asked innocently, and Wade, honest to god, _groaned_ covering his eyes for a moment. Suddenly Peter remembered all the things that Miles told him about the antihero, all the things the man said about him, and he felt stunned. Literally drunk with the power his actions had over this man, the one who others feared and considered dangerous. All he needed was just a few badly picked words, and the man was acting like he talked dirty to him like some professional ponstar.

It was ridiculous. It was cute. It was doing funny things to Peter’s self esteem. But most importantly, it made him forget that he really shouldn’t be doing any of this.

“Oh for the love of… Petey, don’t say shit like that or I may really drop dead. You have no idea what that dress is doing to me.” The man sounded gut punched.

Peter couldn’t believe what got into him. Tonight he was prepared for the usual scenario, the one when he had to somehow lure the person that showed some vague interest in him without talking too much (because of how awkward he acted), and then maybe he hoped for a quickie. Mixed with running away right after. But this? Getting the unquestionable adoration for the bare minimum from the guy he was secretly thirsting over (yes, Ned, you were right, fuck you very much)? That was the kind of thing that didn’t happen to Peter, never. And so he was feeling dazed, almost like he was dreaming.

“So, no seducing? No wooing? After all you’ve done for me and said to Spider-Man I thought you’d like… I don’t know, a small reward mabe?” Peter tapped his lips with his finger thoughtfully, eyes half lidded. He’ll blame it all on alcohol later, because right now he didn’t want to think about what he was doing. He was wearing his shortest dress and highest heels and felt powerful and attractive like never before, showered in compliments by the man who couldn’t leave his head for almost a week now. Fuck the consequences, he deserved to have a little fun without overthinking it.

“Oh, baby. I’d never want anything from you in return for what I did, I’ve already told you that.” Wade’s voice became less flirting and more serious at that, leaving no room for discussion. “But,” he pointed his index finger at the ceiling, wiggling his brows playfully, “no one said anything against wooing here, sweetums. And judging by that gorgeous face of yours, I should hurry before someone will snatch you from me.” Wade didn’t sound like he expected anything but another of Peter’s laughs and maybe an eyeroll, as he bowed slightly and offered his hand. “What would you say about dance, for a start?”

And the humour was clear in Deadpool’s voice but it didn’t stop Peter as he looked straight at the white eyes of the merc’s mask and smiled sweetly. “Sure, why not?”

Wade winced, unprepared for an honest answer. Peter didn’t waste time, drinking the rest of his champagne in one go and putting the empty glass on the nearest table with the loud bump. Then he threw the one last glance over his shoulder at the still absorbed Miles, who was murmuring to himself quietly, and turned back to the mercenary. He reached to the higher man’s neck, ignoring his hand and grabbing the tie, tugging him behind himself as he led them both to the dance area.

He gracefully avoided people on the way, smiling to himself as he heard the first tones of “She’s My Collar” by Gorillaz and Kali Uchis, the beat matching his confident steps. When they finally came to a stop, Peter let go of the soft material and spinned in place to face Wade and put his hands on the merc’s pecs, swaying his hips. Deadpool’s eyes were wide open and he stood absolutely still, looking at Peter so intensely it felt like a psychical touch. Peter lazily moved again, feeling like the rhythm of the song lured out the side of him that wanted to be free to dance the whole night if allowed.

“Cat got your tongue, big guy?”

Deadpool made a strangled sound as Peter turned again, his back now glued to the man’s front, his body still moving. He put his palms on the merc’s forearms and travelled down them to Wade’s hands, which he put on his hips.

“Holy fucking shit, Petey.” The man moaned in his ear, breath tickling it and making him shiver. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, I think I’m going to come in my pants if you don’t stop.” 

That statement made Peter giggle, muscles vibrating with laughter. He felt Wade’s fingers flexing through the thin fabric of his dress, almost like he wanted to tighten his grip but held back at the last moment. It still made Peter incredibly sensitive, a soft exhale escaping his parted lips. Every place Wade was touching him with his big hands felt like he was on fire, and he couldn’t help wanting to be burned, especially when he sensed when Deadpool started to subtly sway with him. 

And so Peter danced like there was no tomorrow, moving his body the best he could, bending his spine and shaking his hips, forgetting about the world around them, about everything that wasn’t Wade and music. In those heels he was tall enough to rest his head on the merc shoulder, and he did exactly that, baring his neck and closing his eyes. The whole tension was leaving his body, leaving it fueled with the contentment and peace, alcohol still swimming in his veins easing the process. The only thing that made Peter’s brows furrow a little were Wade’s hands, they never changed their location, unmoved from where they were left.

Peter took them in his own palms and squeezed, shifting them a little higher, on his waist. “You can touch, you know” he murmured, laying his cheek on the antihero’s suit so he could hear him speaking. But despite his effort, the man didn’t start running his fingers across Peter’s chest, like he would expect. He only slightly tightened his grip and the boy opened his eyes in time to see him shake his head.

“Oh no baby, trust me, I can’t” his voice was so hoarse that Peter gulped, his dick twitching involuntarily at almost the same time the resignation waved over him. The most ripped man he had ever seen was embracing him, whispering right to his ear in the most raspy and arousing voice he could imagine, so of course there was a catch here. Peter had misread something, mixed the signals or just seen subtext where there was only a playful flirting that didn’t mean anything. Deadpool wasn’t really interested in him, this was how he always acted and now he was going to brush off the clingy man who invaded his personal space and oh god, he should hope that for what he did the merc was only going to reject him, without any broken bones or—

“...you’re probably drunk and not in your right mind, you don’t know what you’re doing. And even if there's nothing more than I want right now than to climb you like a tree, I’m not gonna take an advantage on you Petey, I’m not that much of a scumbag.” Wade sighed and with the last gentle squeeze he released Peter’s body, taking a step back. 

Peter blinked, twice, dumbfounded expression probably making him look totally unsexy and stupid. He turned to face Deadpool, watching him with quizzical carefulness. “You… don’t want to take advantage of me because you think I’m intoxicated?”

Wade nodded vigorously, looking relieved. “Exactly baby boy, thank you for your understanding, wouldn’t want to hurt a perfect angel like you and betray Spidey’s trust.”

“So you’re doing it for him.” Peter grimaced, but the man immediately lifted his hands waving them behind his face.

“No, no, no, no, no, you get it all wrong sweetums! His role in this is the least important, I’m doing this for _you_. You would totally regret it in the morning, trust me.” Wade sounded serious, and Peter couldn’t help but stare at him. 

Because what the hell. He always made the worst possible decisions, taking to bed only people who walked away after they used him. Making fun of him to somehow justify their own actions, to clear themselves in their own eyes, because of course it was a joke, a pity fuck, of course it wasn’t serious, _who would want to fuck a freak like you, Parker? Don’t flatter yourself and don’t mention it to anyone or you’ll regret it._

And Peter never told anyone, about all of those closeted and outed men who threated him into not telling anyone because who would believe him anyway, they would all just deny it. Besides, he didn’t want to. He always knew how it’s gonna end, he looked for it. He looked for the one who would threaten him in the worst way and then leave him, pretending that they weren’t gazing at Peter the previous evening to just get into his pants.

They didn’t have the power to do anything to him anyways with the contacts he had. It was just a pathetic talk they always gave him, that made him want to roll his eyes but hurt all the same. Of course, he had some one night stands that didn’t end _that_ terribly, but the embarrassment of his partners in the morning was so awkward he offered the option of never mentioning it again himself. 

It was just easier. It was just this coping mechanism that prevented him from getting another person he would have to worry about in his daily routine. A lover would be dangerous because of how complicated Peter’s life was, because of people that might want to use him against Peter and his family if something went wrong. It was a safer and more comfortable way, where he got the physical touch he wanted and ignored the feelings he secretly craved. It worked fine enough for a few years and he didn’t want to change it, because why would he? 

His partner's roughness didn’t bother him, their indifference to his pleasure was sufferable. The way they treated him was understandable, since they always met in bars or at parties, he didn’t expect them to put an effort into hitting on him, when they both knew how it was going to end. They just took all he gave and more, because he didn’t protest and they didn’t want to hear it anyway. It happened a few times that he was really drunk and fuckeda stranger anyways, because his control slipped a little. They never refused him because of how much he drank, usually more sober than him and always using his card too. That it was his fault they ended in bed together because he was insistant, he was whining for it, and now of course he didn’t remember anything, _a bitch like him probably had a problem with the number of cocks he sucked at that party anyway_. He never told them that he could hold his liquor pretty well and almost never drank too much, there was no point.

He was used to all of this, really. But this? Deadpool, the vicious mercenary that would make all of those men piss themselves effortlessly, telling him no because he didn’t want Peter to regret it after? This was the strangest behavior that Peter had ever experienced.

And he burst out laughing, ignoring the few people who gave him puzzled looks, but didn’t pause their dancing. 

“Uhm, okay that was kind of a weird reaction but I won’t complain, since I managed to hear that cute sound that is your laugh.” Wade coughed in his hand awkwardly and shrugged. “Yellow said that it could always be worse, with you yelling at me or something, and I think I agree with him.”

Peter, still grinning widely, shook his head and took a step closer.

“You’re full of surprise, Wade Wilson.” He grabbed him by the tie for the second time this night and yanked his head down, so his mouth was an inch from the merc ear. Then he whispered a string of numbers, feeling when Deadpool tensed, the realization showering over him. At the end, Peter kissed him softly in the cheek, barely a brush of lips on the leather and shifted back. 

“Call me later and find out if I’m gonna regret _this_ , big guy.” He smiled for the last time and winked, leaving Deadpool still slouched forward, masked face looking at him unblinking as Peter turned and walked through the dance floor, the example of grace and carelessness. He had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing, heading to the place he last saw Miles and wondering if the merc remembered his phone number, and if yes he would use it, or was all his previous pleadings for this just a way to piss off Spider-Man.

Peter fought the urge to look over his shoulder, somehow certain that if he did, he wouldn’t find even the slightest hint of the man who stood there with him just seconds before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, please consider leaving a comment, it really keeps me going!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want more amazing spideypool fanfictions check out my incredible beta [Turnip ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimidTurnip) !!

Next day, when Peter woke up, he was in his bed with only his lacy underwear from the previous night on. Next to him on the bed was empty, and for a few moments he couldn’t clear his thoughts to understand what happened. Because his lower parts didn’t hurt and yet he still somehow felt weirdly calm and satisfied. He couldn’t remember the last time he was in such a good mood in the morning when he didn’t even fuck. He tried really hard to remember anything, but the memories were fogged and he was still sleepy, his body begging him to just lay a little longer and stop worrying for five more minutes. And he almost blacked out again, when the loud groan from the floor on his right echoed in the room, making him open his eyes.

“Ohmyfuckinggod Peter, I’m gonna puke.” Miles’ voice was muffled but it was definitely him. Peter confirmed it by sticking his head over the edge of his mattress to see the other boy face down on the carpet next to the bed, with only his own rolled up blouse as a pillow. The sight made Peter snort involuntarily and Miles responded with another grunt.

“Don’t laugh at me fucker, I’m not joking I’ll puke at your floor.”

“I don’t care, I don’t live here anymore” pointed out Peter, rolling off the bed and looking around for a clean pair of sweats that he prepared for himself a day before. He  _ sometimes _ wore pants. Especially if he had a hungover friend to take care of.

“Are your spider powers not working correctly?” He asked, with the weird feeling of  déjà vu that he shrugged off, reaching for the clothes he found on the opposite side of the room. He didn’t bother with a shirt as he just quickly slid on the old gray sweats and walked over to Miles, who still hadn’t moved from his place on the ground.

“I don’t know, shit, I need to vomit man, like, right now.” He sounded pained and Peter didn’t waste time, grabbing him under the armpits and helping him to get up. Then he walked them both as fast as he could to the bathroom that was adjoined to Peter’s room, guiding his friend all the way to the toilet where he stopped to help the young hero kneel next to it. Soon the loud noises of Miles emptying his stomach filled the room, making Peter wince in sympathy. He double checked if his friend was in a steady position with his arms practically hugging the white porcelain, before he patted him on the shoulder and left, giving him some privacy. 

Back in his bedroom, Peter took a second look at his surroundings and nodded to himself thoughtfully. It looked like no one besides the two of them come here, only his crumpled dress and Miles’ sweatshirt on the floor, stilettos laid neatly next to the door. He could hear the vacuum cleaner buzzing from the hall, and that meant the cleaning team was already working. Peter furrowed his brows. What time was it then?

He searched for his phone, finding it on the nightstand half covered by his old shirt, that he gladly put on before reaching for the smartphone. He forgot to charge it during the night but it still worked, even if the battery was reaching its end. The clock on the home screen informed him that it was half past two, the information making him grimace. He didn’t like to wake up that late, his body clock already destroyed by his love of staying awake to ungodly hours. He was about to turn off his phone again, when suddenly he noticed the icon of a new message that seemed to almost glare at him. He felt something shift in the back of his head, a memory from yesterday surfacing out of his still sleepy brain, making his stomach drop to his feet. 

_ Oh, fuck.  _

With trembling fingers he clicked the notification and opened the message, which came from an unknown number.

**12:37**

**hiya bby boi, hope the hangover is not bothering you to much;)) anyhoo, you said to contact you later and here i am, sliding into your dms *wink***

**if u regret this already tho, feel free to ignore this message and delete the contact, i promise i won’t trouble u, xoxo DP**

Peter took a shaking breath. So last night's events weren't his imagination after all, good to know. Everything clicked into position and he cursed, both embarrassed and impressed by his behaviour. He was practically grinding with the mercenary last night, acting like a fucking horndog in the room full of people! And he wasn’t even drunk then, just after a shot or two, which is really nothing and shouldn’t make him lose his mind around the man like that! It was humiliating. 

But Wade wrote anyway. And he left him a way to opt out too, just like before, didn’t even expect any explanation. It made Peter feel a certain way and his thumb hung over the screen, hesitating on what should he reply, but before he had a chance to type one letter the noises from the bathroom suddenly stopped. He quickly tucked the phone into the pocket of his pants and hurried back to his friend, thoughts still chaotic.

“How are you feeling Miles?” He asked, spotting the young hero bent over the washing stand, sluicing his mouth. The boy sent him a tired look in the mirror and spit in the basin.

“Better,” he said, splattering the water over his face and sighing, straightening his back. “I think my body needed to get rid of the toxines, and now after I throw up everything I ate since the day I was born I actually feel like I’m gonna survive this morning.”

“Man, it’s almost three pm.” Peter shook his head.

“Wait, really? Shit” Miles rubbed his face with his hand and leaned on the edge of the bathtub, exhaling loudly. “I’m never drinking again.”

Peter laughed, sitting next to his friend. “Everybody says that, it never works.”

“So I’m gonna be the first who really does it.” Miles glared at him, the corner of his lips twitching.

“There’s an easier way, next time just drink enough for your powers to keep up, idiot.” Peter squeezed his arm in affection, ignoring the eye roll he received.

“At least I don’t remember jack shit from what I did yesterday, and for once I’m glad for it. It had to be really cringy, am I right?” Miles sounded resigned, and Peter felt the urge to comfort him, since it was his birthday party and he wanted him to remember it as a pleasant event, not a traumatic one.

“Nah, don’t say that. Everyone's a little pathetic after alcohol, that’s why it’s for grown-ups” he flicked Miles in the nose and the boy giggled. “Besides, it wasn’t like anyone noticed, it was a party after all. You should have seen the other people, I think the only sober person there was maybe Gwen and really no one else.”

“At least nobody will accuse us of throwing a boring party.” Miles smiled and wiggled his eyebrows, making Peter grin as well.

“No, that one is definitely unarguable, we are super cool.” Peter’s comically serious voice made them both laugh, tension leaving the room for good. After they calmed down a little, there was a minute of comfortable silence before Miles broke it, a quiet groan escaping his lips as he covered his eyes.

“But man, the dreams I have after alcohol! Unbelievable…” he shook his head and snorted to himself, uncovering his eyes and looking at Peter. “You know that I had a dream I sold you to Deadpool?”

“W-what?!” Peter tried really hard to not let himself show any suspicious emotions on a mention of the mercenary, such as embarrassment or sentiment.

“Yeah,” Miles laughed again with shit eating grin pointed at Peter. “I dreamed that he showed up at my party, with a couple of thousands that he gave me as a present, would you believe it? Shit, I wish it was true, I could really use money like that. Anyway, you were with me before, and after he came and I took the money, he was gone with you! And what the hell, of course you’re worth more but it’s still weird that… Peter are you choking right now?”

***

It was almost seven pm when Peter finally opened the door to his own apartment, sighing with relief. He had to take care of everything, paying the cleaners and checking if his friends and a few guests left his parent’s house safely. Not to mention the explanation of his sudden reaction to Miles' story. 

He hated lying, but this time he knew he couldn’t tell the truth because there was just no way that the young hero would understand his motives when even he didn’t. And so he explained to Miles that Deadpool in fact showed up at his party and yes gave him the money, but no it wasn't to buy Peter, and they disappeared for just five minutes because he had to walk the antihero to the door. Miles was both horrified and impressed that Peter managed to sort this out on his own, swearing that he’d kill Deadpool as soon as he saw him for crashing the party and bothering his friend. Peter pointed out that it would be rude since the man brought him a present and it wasn’t technically his fault in the first place, since he just took the opportunity Miles’ drunk invitation gave him. Then he had to calm down the other boy again as the event’s from the previous night and the bet with Scott Lang’s daughter came forward. 

During the entire fuss of Miles apologizing for the fifth time, his lie about what had really happened with Deadpool and him remained undetected. He knew he was lucky because if not for the still lasting hangover and other occupying topics, his friend would probably have noticed it and interrogated Peter until he would finally break and tell the truth. 

He opened his fridge searching for something to eat, but closed it equally as fast, not really interested in anything he found. He didn’t want to eat, he was restless and the reason for it was one silly message he received almost seven hours ago. He didn’t delete the contact, but he didn’t respond either. His head was empty every time he tried to come up with something that wasn’t lame or weird, a good answer seeming to always be beyond his reach, the feeling of frustration slowly becoming unbearable.

Tea. He needed some tea to calm the fuck down and rethink everything.

He pulled his phone out of the pocket and threw it at the table in his small kitchen, screen to the counter. He then heated up the water and prepared a cup, celebrating the surrounding silence that helped him gather his thoughts and take a deep breath. When the water started to boil he started feeling a lot better, the nervous fidgeting of his fingers stilled.

He took his now ready drink with him to the bedroom, along with his phone and nestled himself on his bed, covering his body with the fluffiest blanket he had. If he was about to overthink and freak out about his actions, he could at least do it while warm and cozy.

He took his time, sipping the tea thoughtfully before he finally sighed and unlocked the phone, deciding that he couldn’t delay the moment forever. On his screen there was an open conversation on discord, the server he made for his friends to talk during gaming marathons and what soon became their main app to communicate. There were a few new messages, most of them from Ned wanting to explain where he stayed the night. Apparently they underestimated his flirting abilities, because yesterday Betty finally agreed to go on a date with him, and he was on cloud nine spamming on the channel with lovestruck emojis and exclamation marks. Peter smiled with fondness and replied his congratulations, genuinely happy for his friend. He knew how much Ned pinned for the girl, talking about her during almost every meeting they had. It was worse than watching Gwen and Michelle!

There weren't any new notifications beside those, and Peter had no other excuses to not open The Text again. But to his justification, after reopening it for the second time and rereading closely, he still didn’t know what he should write back. Or if writing back was even a good idea. Because really, what you should text a man who rescued you from getting beaten up, annoyed your friend by asking about you, then danced with you for one very intense and very hot dance before refusing to do anything else since you were under the influence of alcohol like an A+ gentleman? And all this while being the world's most skilled assassin, a nuisance for your parents and the biggest fear of many powerful people around the world. It was probably one of the weirdest situations in Peter’s life, and it wasn’t like anything else there was ordinary. 

But no, really, what should he write?

Peter eyed the message for the fifth time, looking for enlightenment but nothing came to his mind. And it was annoying. Because usually he had so much to say, his chatty attitude almost annoying. When he was nervous, he talked. When he was excited, he talked. When he was bored, he talked, trying to involve his friends into the conversation. And there was always something to say, to point out. And now? Nothing.

Peter sighed in frustration. MJ always said that he liked to overthink things and that’s what really blocked him. And maybe she was right. Maybe that was one of those situations, when he didn’t have to think about things but just feel them, just flow with the events and adjust to them.

Before his brain could catch on with what his hands were doing, to his utter horror, his finger clicked the call button next to the contact’s number.

Deadpool picked up after two rings.

“Hello…?” Peter’s throat tightened when this gravelly voice spoke right into his ear, causing a shiver to run through the whole length of his spine. “Petey? Is that you baby?”

Peter swallowed, his cheeks reddening involuntarily at the pet name. 

“Yeah,” he said and grimaced at how weak his own voice sounded. “Yeah it’s me.”

“Well, that’s weird on so many levels because first, I was one hundred percent sure that you’d already blocked my number and second, I thought that kids these days are more likely to bite off their own tongue than to call someone.”

Peter rolled his eyes, the tension slowly disappearing from his shoulders. Somehow Deadpool always knew what to say or do to calm his doubts, his jokes and cheerful tone easing the bundle of nerves inside his chest.

“Piss off, I’m not a kid.” He murmured and smiled slightly as he heard Wade’s snort on the other side. He wondered how many people would speak to the merc that carelessly, not minding every word they said or fearing the antihero’s anger. He heard a lot of stories about what the man could do if riled up, and asked himself why _ he _ somehow didn’t feel the urge to watch his steps, letting himself relax at the sound of the soft baritone.

“Sure thing baby boy.” Deadpool was clearly amused, dragging out vowels in the nickname, making Peter smile. “All I’m saying is just that a simple message would be enough.”

“I… I didn’t really know what to write and…” Peter silently cursed himself for spilling this fact and making himself look like a helpless teenager without experience in talking to people he liked. So, the exact opposite of the impression he wanted to make on the man.

“Hey, it’s okay, you don’t have to explain yourself sweetie. I said that it would be _ enough  _ but I’m a greedy bastard and I’m over the moon that you decided to call me, hearing your angelic voice definitely made my night.” Wade was quick to reassure him, his fast reaction saving Peter from another embarrassment and making the boy sigh in relief. 

“Flaterer,” he laughed, gaining a scandalous gasp in return.

“You think I’m  _ lying _ ? Petey, you’re all I can think about since last night, scouts honor!”

“Uh, about that…'' Peter’s smile faded and he cracked his knuckles restlessly, thinking about how to start the topic without sounding strange or rude, but the merc forestalled him.

“Hey, I told you that you don’t have to make any excuses.” His tone now more serious and resigned, the playful notes disappearing. “You’re sober now and you regret your actions, I get it, I really do. You’re not the first person who doesn’t want to have anything to do with me after realization hits, don’t be sorry I’m a big boy and I can take it so─”

“No, it’s not like that!” Peter almost screamed, cutting the man’s speech off frantically, before it could really begin. Damn you, Parker, just clarify this before you lose your chance! “I mean, it’s quite the opposite. Well, I  _ do _ regret my actions, but for different reasons, okay? It was just… so embarrassing, the way I treated you like you were just a piece of meat, and almost forced you to touch me while it was clear you were uncomfortable with it. I wanted to apologize, and… I don’t know.” He ended lamely, smacking himself in the head and biting his lip painfully.

There was a few seconds of silence before Deadpool spoke again.

“ _ This _ is even weirder than you calling.” Wade sounded genuinely puzzled, and the boy imagined him on the other side furrowing his brows. “You’re apologizing for touching me? Am I following? Because holy fuck baby, I thought I made it obvious that I want nothing more than to touch you for the rest of eternity, as you’re the hottest creature I’ve ever crossed my paths with. No touch you would ever initiate would be unwanted, not for me I assure ya.”

“I… It’s…” words failed Peter again, and he sighed in frustration. “It still wasn’t fair okay?”

“No, sweetums, listen. It would be unfair if  _ I _ did anything, you hear me? You were the one who didn’t have control over the situation, not the other way. I can take care of myself and if you’d done anything I didn’t like, believe me that stopping you wouldn’t be the problem at all.” Deadpool’s voice left no room for arguments, and Peter nodded, forgetting that the other man couldn’t see it. 

“So you forgive me?” He asked before he could stop himself, but couldn’t pretend that the small pathetic part of his soul didn’t need a verbal confirmation.

“There’s nothing to forgive Petey, but if it makes you feel better, yes I forgive you.” There was a fondness in Wade’s tone.

“Thank you.” Another comfortable silence descended for a few seconds, before Peter cleared his throat.

“And, uhm, if you’d not tell Spider-Man about this conversation I would be really glad, you know?”

“Sure, but why?” Deadpool was curious, the noises on the other side sounding like he was changing his position on the mattress, bedsprings creaking. “He has no idea that his dear friend withheld information about how reckless he is in giving his number to people he really shouldn’t?”

Peter turned scarlet, but pouted anyway.

“Oh, so you’d prefer if I didn’t do it then? You change your mind really quickly, you know?” he bit back, sulking.

“Baby, maybe it just concerns me how willing you are to give your contacts to random assassins that get in your way by accident.”

Peter felt his heart beat faster.

“Not the random ones,” he admitted, exhaling softly. “Just the one who I’m interested in.” 

He only heard air being inhaled sharply, before another silence began, lasting for a lot longer this time. Peter had enough time to abuse his lower lip with his teeth, curse himself at least four times and tighten his grip on the blanket so hard his knuckles went white.

“Would you want to go on a date with me?” Deadpool finally broke the stillness, voice hoarse. Peter spluttered, his eyes widening as he pressed the phone tighter to his ear, certain that he heard something wrong.

“ _ What? _ ”

“I mean, it’s totally a non-committal proposition, I swear. But you’re driving me crazy and I can’t function any longer without asking, even if I know it’s a terrible idea and I shouldn’t do it. Like, White is right, why would you say yes to a ugly fucker like me, it doesn’t make any sense! But yeah, Yellow said YOLO and even if in my case it’s definitely not true, I kind of agree with that statement, so. But don’t feel obligated to agree, nu-uh, to be honest the smartest idea would be now to refuse, because if I was a cutie pie like you I would totally say no. You know what parents always tell their kids, don’t go on dates with murderers! Or do they? I don’t know, I don’t have a kid, but if I had, I’d totally say something like this, I’m sure of it. Besides, what else—”

“Wade, shut  _ up _ .” Peter’s heart was running a mile in a minute, and his breathing hitched. So he heard right, and the man really did invite him on a date, holy shit.

His mind was spinning and he was glad he was laying down, the emotions overwhelming him. The pitiful truth was, Peter never went on a date before. Like, really. Despite all the other activities he has experienced, dating wasn’t one of them.

People just wanted him for a moment, for a quick fuck and maybe, only maybe when he was lucky, for a night. No one wanted him  _ after  _ this, and any form of affection was off the table. It wasn’t like he didn’t know love, because he did. His fathers loved him the most in the world, he was more than sure of it, and his friends always let him feel how much he meant to them. The thing was, he never experienced anything different than the platonic side of love, and that was what really worked him up. Because it caused the thoughts, those who told him he was unlovable, unable for a healthy romantic relationship. He fought them on a daily basis, telling himself that he was still young and everything was just a matter of time, but sometimes, when he laid at night and looked at the ceiling, it was hard to believe it.

Maybe it was partially his fault. Maybe if he wasn’t such a freak… Maybe if he wasn’t looking at bars for a partner to spend a night with… 

But the thing is, no matter where he looked, no one was interested in any sort of relationship with him. Other students, colleagues from classes, people he met at parties.

Everyone just wanted to fuck Peter Parker. No one really wanted anything more.

They took what they wanted from him and when they wanted, knowing that he hardly refused, starved for every bit of affection he could get, even if illusory. They didn’t woo him, there was no point in trying to impress him as he was easy to get either way. So why bother.

And that’s why Deadpool’s proposition was so unsettling for Peter. He finally got that yes, the man definitely was interested in banging him, that’s good. But why ask him out then? Did he think that because of his infamous career Peter would refuse the blatant invitation for sex? Did he feel sorry for him and wanted to pretend the need to win him? It didn’t make any sense for the boy and he didn’t really know how to work with it. 

His friends tried to ask him once or twice about his one night stands, if he really felt absolutely okay doing it and if the men somehow forced him, but after his definitive statement that he was fine and that it was what he wanted, they didn’t push him again. And his parents, of course, had no idea about his sex life and so they didn’t worry, blessedly oblivious. 

Peter took a deep breath. If the merc wanted to act a little longer just to feel better with his morality, who was he to judge? After all, his own ambiguous reasoning was completely fine with the double standards he set for himself, in where he didn’t mind people using his body, but for him to touch a person without enthusiastic consent was unacceptable.

“Yes.” Peter’s voice shook slightly as he spoke again, throat tight. “Yes I’d like very much to go on a date with you, Wade.”

Because fuck it. It will be at least a nice memory, so why refuse? 

“Sweet chimichangas, really?!” Deadpool shrieked so loud Peter had to move the phone away from his ear, wincing. “I’ll take you on the best date  _ ever _ , Petey, I swear! I mean, we’d have to probably go to some public places so you’ll feel safer and not like I’m going to kidnap you in any moment or something, but it will be worth it, pinky promise!”

Peter laughed a little, cheeks warm. He had no idea how he could feel so much for someone he hadn’t even meet properly, but that’s what happened. There were butterflies in his stomach on every sweet thing the man said, on every little thought about him. It both fascinated and scared Peter, because when it all ends, it will probably be harder for him to move on. 

Not that he was able to stop it himself earlier, definitely not. He was going to enjoy those little scraps of attention as long as he could.

“It won’t be a problem, but I appreciate it anyway, thank you.” Peter played with a strand of his hair, smiling softly. Then there was a click of metal on the other side, that sounded disturbingly close to a gun being loaded, before someone screamed in the background, in time with Deadpool cursing.

“Ooops, sorry baby, the responsibilities are calling, I’ll send you the details later okay? You know, via text message, like someone who lives in the twenty-first century.” Something cracked, and now Peter was sure that he didn’t catch Wade in home with his call as he previously thought, feeling stupidly guilty.

“Yeah, as I said, piss off.” His voice lacked real salt, and the effect was completely destroyed when after two seconds of arguing with himself, Peter added, “be careful.”

“Awww,'' Deadpool cooed, making the boy blush harder. “Aren’t you the sweetest─'' loud gunshots interrupted him, and the merc swore, tone unhappy. “Gezz, you can’t have shit in New York, I’m coming!” Another gunshots, another scream. “Okay Petey, see ya later, daddy needs to take care of some reeeally naughty boys down here. Ah, and if you feel like canceling our date, just say the word baby, I won’t be mad, promise!” After that, the call ended, before Peter even had a chance to say something in return, the yells still echoing in his skull.

Yeah. So that was the man who was about to be his first date. Gods, his fathers would be so disappointed if they knew!

Peter stared at his phone for a few more seconds before sighing and opening his contact list, starting to search through it. He finally found the one he was looking for and chose it, debating with himself for a moment before clicking the call button for the second time this day. He didn’t care if his behaviour was odd, he didn’t have energy for typing.

“Peter?” A female voice asked suspiciously, after a moment of waiting.

“Hi Shuri,” he greeted politely, switching his position to lay on his stomach. “Would you do me a big favour?”

*** 

“The pink one. Trust me.”

“Are you one hundred percent sure? I think I’ll look like a lolita and I’m not convinced that’s how you’re supposed to look on the first date.” Peter squinted at the material in his hands, unconvinced.

“Oh my god.” Shuri rolled her eyes and loudly blew some bubble gum, to accent her gesture. “You said this guy saw you in The Slutty Dress, right?”

“It’s  _ not _ a slutty dress, don’t call it that!” Peter protested loudly, but the girl only snapped her fingers, impatient.

“Whatever. My point is, he saw you in more inappropriate clothing, and  _ still _ wanted to go out with you. That means something. Now, you need to test the waters and push a little more. See how much he cares. In different words,” she adjusted herself on his bed, sitting more comfortable, and lifted her brows at him. “Go big or go home.”

Peter snorted, turning back to his wardrobe and sighing. “I’m not sure if it works like this Shuri.”

Because yeah, she didn’t know that it wasn’t a 'possible long term relationship' he needed to explore first. That this meeting was nothing more than a farce, nothing more than a pity date, before the man will admit that he really just wanted to have sex with him, and Peter will give it anyway, because the merc still strived to do more for him than anyone before. Shuri didn’t know that he was fully prepared to only get from this nice memories and (hopefully) a satisfying fuck. Because still, it will be with the hottest, probably the best built man he had ever seen, so he had to be crazy to pass up an occasion like this.

“Just shut up and listen to my advice, it was you who called me to take part in this shady business of yours.” She chewed her gum loudly, unlocking her phone. 

Peter rubbed his temples, trying to stop the train of his thoughts. Yes it was true that he called the girl five days ago, asking for help in preparing for the date, but he was nervous and she was the only option he had. And it wasn’t like he was regretting it, just that her presence was making the whole thing real even more than Wade’s text did, and he was slightly freaking out. 

First, he had to keep this event in secret from his friends, because they would make a fuss of it, when he had it all in control. They wouldn’t understand that it was about to be a one-time thing, an exception he was about to make in his too careful life. He was always responsible and obedient, and it really would make anyone starved for a little selfishness in their life. And so it will be his only act of recklessness, he decided. Just for one day he’ll forget about all those people who told him to stay away from guys like Deadpool and have some fun.

He was kind of glad his parents were on a mission and he didn’t have to lie to them too. Just hiding it from his friends was enough of a challenge.

But he wasn’t  _ that _ irresponsible. He called Shuri after all, didn’t he? Peter was lucky she was studying in New York too and not in Wakanda. They had a strange friendship, as those who had superhero family members, but themselves weren't gifted with any special abilities, and were always a little too overprotected by others.

They didn’t hang out often, usually just too busy for this or dwelling in different continents, as Shuri travelled between Wakanda and New York, mixing her visits at home with college assignments. To his luck, now was the time when she was in the city and had a slower week, which made her agree to his unlikely request.

To his surprise, she didn’t even blink as Peter reconditely explained that he needed her full discretion in covering his back if anyone asked where he was. He told her that he was about to go on an important date, but he couldn’t tell her who was his partner. He promised he’d report his current location during the date so if anything happened, she’d know the last place he was to search. He couldn’t be really irresponsible even if he wanted, the years of implanted safety behaviour in him finally turned. 

And Shuri miraculously agreed to all of this, promising she wouldn’t follow him and offering her help in picking out the perfect outfit for the date, for which Peter was really glad, because of her indisputable good fashion sense.

“Hey, I am listening to you, look, I put out all the clothes you approved!” He gestured at the pile that laid on his bed near Shuri’s feet.

“Good” she nodded, not taking her eyes off the screen of her phone. “Now put it on.”

Peter obeyed, taking off his shirt and sweats he was currently wearing to dress up in the outfit the girl picked for him. He already felt his cheeks burning as he slid in knee socks and the second shortest skirt he had. The white cashmere sweater didn’t help much.

“Choker too?” He asked, tying up the laces of his pink sneakers and searching them for any muck.

“Yes, choker too, I need to see the whole picture Peter.” Shuri lifted her eyebrow like it was obvious and he raised his hands apologetically, before putting on the pink ribbon. Then, he took a step back, according to Shuri’s command, as the girl looked him up and down.

“Perfect composition.” She muttered to herself, touching her lips with her index finger, focused. “Pink choker, white sweater, pink skirt, white socks, pink shoes. The colours are completing themselves, good. Great!” she suddenly clasped her hands, smiling brightly. “You look fucking amazing and if this guy won’t drop to his knees at your sight, dump him.”

Peter laughed at that and shook his head, turning to the mirror. His eyes widened a little, as he stepped closer, examining his look intently. 

He looked pretty. Really pretty, in a way that made his self esteem raise a little, as well as the corners of his mouth. In times like this he didn’t feel that odd with his taste in clothes, absorbed by the sense of courage they gave him. In times like this, he held his head up proudly.

“Doesn’t it look pretentious?” He asked anyway, swirling in place to look at himself from different angles.

“Nah, you look dope.” Shuri grinned, reaching with her hand to ruffle his curls. Peter shrieked, scandalized, and moved out of her grasp.

“Don’t touch, you’ll destroy all the work I put into taming them!” He pouted, checking in the mirror if any damage had been done, but fortunately not finding any. Shuri only rolled her eyes.

“Lil’ crybaby,” she murmured with affection, before checking her phone and furrowing her brows. “Weren’t you set up at four? There’s only one hour left. We spent a little more time than we thought on this...”

“Oh my god.” Peter also looked at the clock to confirm it and cursed. “Shit, I wanted to take one more shower before!”

“I thought you’d already taken like two of them.”

“And your point is?” 

Shuri facepalmed and shook her head, stopping him from taking the clothes off him. 

“Stop panicking, you don’t smell and you look fresh enough, you definitely don’t need another shower. Besides, you’re already dressed.”

Peter didn’t feel convinced, but he also knew that he had a tendency to act stupid when he was nervous, and decided to trust the girl’s assessments. 

He took his phone out of the small purse he prepared earlier, and bit his lip, looking at the last messages he got from Wade since the day he called him. There were a lot of heart emojis, pics of cute dogs and cats and randomly sent comments about how the merc’s day went. Peter didn’t always reply, usually just too stunned by the fact that the man would want to contact him without any big purpose. The text with the time and location of their date was the first message he received from Deadpool after their call, and later there was just the chaotic stuff he sent. Sometimes Peter wrote something back and then he was immediately flooded with replies, almost like the man had a phone in his hand all the time. It was sweet and disturbing at the same time, Wade’s eagerness noncoherent. 

He felt almost sad, that this all was about to end today, after the merc would get what he wanted. 

He shooed the thoughts away. Quit the bitching Parker, you’re going to spend an amazing night with a good looking man who will also take you on a date before, don’t be ungrateful!

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, Shuri was looking at him with a gentle flicker in her gaze, her expression soft.

“It will be fine,” she said, squeezing his hand encouragely.

Peter answered with a smile. “Yeah, I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how to thank you all for the amazing comments you're leaving, I'm touched by every single one of them. I thought no one would be interested in my story and I'm still shocked how warmly you welcomed it. I love you guys!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Want some more cool spideypool fics? Go check on my amazing beta [Turnip ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimidTurnip) !!

Peter’s steps echoed on the pavement and for some strange reasons they sounded too loud in the boy’s ears, making him imagine that the whole street was looking at him with annoyance.

It was hilarious and irrational but he couldn’t stop these thoughts, tightening his grip on the strip of his purse. People  _ were _ looking at him though, but for far different reasons. Their disapproving glances made his skin crawl, and he felt the urge to draw in and hide somewhere,where he would never see another disgusted stare again.

He had to breathe loudly to calm himself. He looked good. He  _ knew _ it. He felt amazing and confident not even half an hour ago so why was he freaking out now? Was it because he was afraid of what Wade would say? But that would be stupid! Deadpool has already seen him in the clothes he liked, and he even sent him a pic one time, of a cute red dress with the caption “bet you'd look pog in it xx”. Peter couldn’t calm down after this message, giggling to himself and smiling like a madman for the rest of the day.

Now, the memory comforted him a little, his footsteps more confident as he got closer to the aim of his walk. Wade texted him to come to the corner of two streets in one of the more wealthier quarters and Peter wondered if he really wanted to take him to one of those exclusive restaurants, where all those business men in tailored suits and celebrities ate. He’d never been in one, even with his parents because they all agreed that the atmosphere was just unbearable, and the portions too small to fulfill one’s hunger.

His thoughts stopped as he finally came to the right address. Other new yorkers around him were still moving, jostling him as he stood in place looking at the huge silhouette that was leaning over the wall a few feets away, recognizable even among all the crowded people. 

Deadpool was dressed in a black hoodie, black trousers and black heavy boots, the material of his clothes doing a poor job in hiding the bulge of his muscles, the sight itself making Peter’s mouth dry. Now he was completely sober, in a good light, and not in a life threatening situation, which let him finally appreciate the size of the man. Which was, he must admit, really impressive.

There weren't any visible weapons out, but Peter wasn’t  _ that _ naive to think that the merc wouldn’t take anything, even on a date. He knew enough about him to suspect that under the fabric were hiding probably a small arsenal. And even if not, even if the man really came unarmed, Peter was sure that the most dangerous of weapons was his body. Trained to become the most skilled assassin in the world, it was no match for anything his enemy could bring.

Wade was still wearing a mask and his leather gloves though, Peter noticed as the man lifted the phone to his face, typing something. It made Peter wonder if he didn’t want to somehow reveal his identity, which provoked other memories, thoughts gently scraping in the back of his head, trying to make him remember something, that he believed, was really important. But before he could contemplate it more, he decided to walk over to Deadpool, the anticipation of interacting with the antihero making him shudder. 

“Hi,” said Peter, smiling shyly but genuinely, his fists clenched in nervousness. Wade immediately put his phone down and straightened, which made him tower over the boy significantly.

“Baby boy! You ca—” he stopped in the middle of the sentence, staring at Peter, and the boy could swear that the white eyes of his mask widened. He gulped loudly, the intensivity of the man’s gaze making him squirm a little. That made Deadpool snap out of his thoughts, and he shook his head like a dog, leaning down a little.

“I can’t believe you somehow manage to look better every time we meet, I’m starting to think you’re not a human after all.” Deadpool's words sounded like he wasn't kidding, and Peter rolled his eyes, ignoring the smile and the blush that appeared on his face at the complement. 

Aaand there it was. That traitorous part of his brain that couldn't help but fall a little for the man with every nice word he said. Craving the attention as much as denying it. Because it was obvious that no one would really find him _ that _ attractive, the man’s behaviour all just flattery. Sure, he was kind of good looking, but Deadpool acted like he was at least a model, not a simple guy in a skirt. And it really didn’t make sense but was pleasant to hear anyway.

_ But what if it wasn’t an act? _ Even smaller, even more traitorous and dangerous part of him asked, the part that he tried to silence at all costs, because he feared the consequences of letting it sow doubts in him. He feared what could he do, if he started to believe again in all the words Wade said. He was already screwed a little more than he’d want, and had the feeling that the moment they part will be harder than ever, but harder still meant bearable. If he assumed that Deadpool truly meant what he said… there was a really short way from this to releasing all those behaviours Peter was running from for so long.

“I am tho, sorry to disappoint.” Peter lifted his brow, putting one of his hands on his hip.

“ _ Disappoint _ ?” Disbelief in Wade’s tone was clear. “Petey, baby, did you hear a word of what I said? I think you look  _ gorgeous _ and I couldn’t be happier in my life that hot stuff like you agreed to go out with me. I thought I made that obvious.”

Peter bit his tongue, dropping his gaze down at the man’s broad shoulders and wondering how someone like him would ever have a problem in finding a partner to warm his bed. This should be impossible.

“Stop it, I think my teeth are aching from the amount of sweetness, ugh.” Peter made a face but also couldn’t hold back a grin, as the man shook his head murmuring something about pretty boys who wanted to ruin his life. “And you know, I wanted to keep them for a little longer. My teeth, I mean. Because I thought that we were going to eat something, right?”

Wade brisked up at this, straightening to his full height again and spreading his arms, almost knocking out one of the pedestrians, despite standing out of the main way.

“Sure thing baby! That’s why we’re here, you can choose any restaurant you want, and I’ll adjust without complaint.” He winked, or at least his mask wrinkled like he did. Peter still was impressed how expressive it was, the fact that he could read through it fascinated him.

Wade’s gesture was sweet and kind of stressful at the same time. Peter was glad that he gave him a free hand in this, caring enough to worry if Peter was gonna like the food and be content with the choice. That was the sweet part. Because the stressful one was that he suddenly felt a big responsibility on his back, that made his palms sweat a little. He had to pick the spot where they were going to eat, on his first date ever, and he totally didn’t think about it, feeling really unprepared. What type of food should he target? The one that was tasty for everyone, like pizza? Or maybe easy to eat, so he wouldn’t accidentally stain his clothes? Or should it be something more fancy, as they were in a neighbourhood like this, was Deadpool suggesting something? Should he think of price, since the man claimed that he was rich? 

Peter felt like he was a second from freaking out when Deadpool hesitantly laid his big hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently, making Peter come back to reality.

“I mean, it’s a proposition, you don’t  _ have to _ do it.” He took his hand back and Peter immediately missed the warmth of it, shuddering lightly. “I’m pretty capable of picking something for us, regardless of what this fucker White is saying, I just thought you’d like to have an option.”

“And I do!” Peter hurried to reassure him, his own eagerness making him cringe internally. “It’s just…” he looked around helplessly, sighing, then lifting his head up again to lock his gaze with the mercenary. “Is a fancy restaurant, like those around us, really a place where you want to go?”

At this, Wade tilted his head, confused. “I thought it would be a place where _ you _ would want to go.” There wasn’t any resentment in his voice, just puzzled honesty. It made Peter settle down, tension leaving his muscles. Wade wasn’t mad at him, he just wanted to understand. 

“What I’m trying to say is,” Peter gestured between them, smiling lightly, “we’re not a very ordinary couple. It’s New York but still, people will stare. We can at least reduce it a little and choose a place where we won’t stand out so much. And possibly have more fun than among all of those uptight, busy douchebags, that would look down at us just for showing up there.”

Wade was speechless for a few seconds, before bursting into laughter.

“Can’t believe I got so lucky.” He shook his head and leaned towards Peter, his smile visible even through the mask. “Dope plan baby boy, I mean it. So, do you have any specific place in mind then? I’m all ears.”

Peter hesitated for a moment, unsure. Should he just screw all his concerns and be honest with Wade in what he wanted? Would he cross a line by telling him about the places where he liked to eat? Would it be weird after it all ends? Or should he sacrifice the location in the name of having fun here and now?

Yeah, looking at the merc who stared at him expectantly but patiently, Peter didn’t feel like lying or keeping back anything from him. The urge to please the man who acted so kindly toward him was stronger than he was willing to admit.

“I… may know a pretty nice joint with mexican food nearby, if you are interested.” He looked at him uncertainly through his eyelash, biting his lip.

Wade clenched his hand on a hoodie where his heart was. “It’s like I dreamed you.” He said in awe, making Peter blush again. 

“Uh, I’m taking it as a yes, then” he stammered, smiling dorkly as he couldn’t help himself, relieved that his proposition turned out to be a success.

“You better do baby, I’m starving just at the thought of it.” Deadpool wiggled his brows under the mask making Peter giggle. The man stepped back and gestured with his hand in invitatory motion. “Lead the way then, Petey.”

Peter nodded and turned in the right direction, Wade close by his side but not touching him, the steady weight of the man's presence next to him calming. Deadpool immediately started talking about his day, just like in all those messages he sent to Peter, and the piece of normality let the boy relax even more. He was glad that the merc took the duty of speaking on himself, because it wasn't an easy thing to do for Peter, especially around people he wanted to impress. When he was nervous, he babbled about whatever came into his head, which was just usually very trivial and cringy things like “oh, look at the sun, doesn’t it shine really nicely today?”. He made a fool of himself every time and cursed himself, only to do exactly that again every time. Like this, when Deadpool started to chatter, his deep voice settling down Peter nerves, it was easier for him to gather his thoughts and not panic.

He quickly sent Shuri the address of the place they were heading and hid his phone back, just to be painfully bumped in the chest by some guy passing, who didn’t even bother to murmur any apologies. 

“Oof,” Peter rubbed his skin and grimaced, bringing Wade’s full attention back to him.

“That fucker knocked you?” He looked up, spotting the back of the wandering man, his tone serious. “Want me to shoot him in the foot?” 

“What? No! Of course no, it was an accident” Peter shook his head. Even if the guy was impolite and didn’t say sorry, he wasn’t about to let Deadpool shoot him as a punishment, it would be ridiculous and completely not like his fathers raised him. He grabbed Wade by the sleeve of his hoodie and pulled him to walk again, not wanting a thing as silly as this to ruin the day. 

“If you don’t mind I would just…” he slid his hand into the crook of the merc’s elbow, grabbing him by the biceps and scooting closer to the muscular body. Like this, he was almost glued to Deadpool’s side and could feel the warmth radiating off him. He smiled happily and raised his head to look in the white eyes of the man’s mask that was staring back at him. “People are parting before you like the Red Sea before Moses, like this no one will jostle me again.”

“Yeah, I would like to see them try.” This probably meant to sound threatening, but Wade’s voice was a little distant as he looked at Peter’s palm on his hoodie. But then he smiled widely and reached with his other hand to cover Peter’s and squeeze his fingers affectionately. “You know, if you wanted to hold hands you could just say so.”

Peter felt his cheeks warmed, but didn’t back away, leading them in the right direction. “Shut up and tell me what this guy Weasel did when you came to the bar all covered in mud.”

Deadpool beamed at that, immediately starting to continue his interrupted story. Turned out that Peter was right and no one so much as brushed him even on the more crowded streets. People instinctively tried to avoid touching Wade’s huge silhouette as much as they could, staying back from both him and Peter. The younger man enjoyed it probably a little too much, savouring every second of the closeness that Deadpool allowed. The muscles under his fingers were rock hard and flexed from time to time, mostly when someone walked a little too close to them, which made Peter wonder if the mercenary really was on alert all the time.

Like this they finally gained their goal, the building outside not really impressive, with the peeling paint on the signboard and darkened windows, but Peter knew better than to judge by looks. He discovered this place with his friends by accident, and could swear that he never had better tacos, and now ordered from here at least twice in a month.

Wade opened the door for him as they walked in, the gesture truly touching Peter’s heart in its simplicity. He wished the man weren’t that charming, that different from the treatment he was accustomed to, so it would be easier for Peter to pretend that he wouldn’t miss him after all.

They walked over to the counter, Peter automatically reaching back for Deadpool’s hoodie, tangling his fist in the soft material. The man looked at him briefly, turning to the cashier that stared at them expectantly.

“Welcome to  _ The Mexicana _ , how can I help you?” the man asked politely, his accent heavy. His eyes lingered on Peter for a moment, before flicking to Deadpool and then widening visibly at the sight of the mercenary's infamous mask under the hood. He gulped slightly but except from this remained professional. Peter suspected that living in this city did that to people.

“Hello,” Peter quickly responded, bringing the guy’s attention back to himself, his smile hopefully reassuring. “We’d like to make an order, on one check please.”

The employee only nodded and typed something in the cash register, before lifting his head again. Peter spoke first, encouraged by Wade’s gesture, and placed his usual order, that the cashier scrupulously noted.

“And for you, sir?” he straightened to look at Deadpool, who was staring at the menu behind the guy and slowly scratching his chin. 

“Well, actually I have a question for ya, if it won’t be a problem” Deadpool leaned a little over the counter and to the man’s credit, he didn’t even flinch.

“No sir, I’ll gladly help sir,” he mumbled, making Wade smile widely. 

“Awesome! Okay buddy, would you please tell me how spicy are the meals with a rank of three peppers next to the name of the dish?”

The guy blinked at him. “Uh, very?” He said, then, probably remembering who he was talking to, he reflected quickly “That means, the jalape ñ o level, sir?” 

“Cool. Then I want everything” Deadpool reached to his pocket to take out a wallet. The man wisely didn’t ask any further questions as he noted their orders, to sum up the cost. Peter tugged Wade by his arm, alarmed, making the man turn to him.

“I wanted one check because I was about to pay!” he whispered, trying to reach into his own purse to take out his credit card, but Wade shook his head, stopping him.

“Sorry Bambi, that’s adorable but there’s no way you’re going to pay since I was the one who invited you.” He gave the cashier two bills, each hundred dollars worth.

“But…” Peter wanted to protest that he was the one who picked the place, but Wade gently put a gloved finger on his lips silencing him effectively, before leaning down a little.

“Shush, baby, be a good boy and let me pay today, please.” Soft murmur of Deadpool’s voice made a shiver run through Peter's spine. It silenced his protests for good, and the merc took his hand off him, moving away easily like nothing happened. 

Peter on the other hand, felt his heart in his throat, mouth dry. Did he just…?

“Keep the change!” Wade cherfully announced to the cashier who nodded gratefully, before tugging Peter toward one of the free tables that was placed more aloof. 

Food wasn’t the only reason why Peter and his friends loved this location and decided to eat here so often. The place provided privacy by putting all the tables in separate boxes, which let them talk more freely and feel less exposed to the curious glances of other guests. The second asset was the main reason why Peter decided to propose this restaurant, because he knew that there was no way they would escape staring if they went somewhere more popular, with different decor.

They sit on the opposite sides, on cozy leather sofas, Peter watching out not to crumple his skirt.

“You know,” he started carefully, minding his words, “Spider-Man mentioned that you stopped asking about me.”

“Well, that’s true.” Wade shrugged and leaned back to sit more comfortably. “Why would I still torture him since I can ask from the source, am I right?” He winked, then suddenly straightened, covering his mouth with his hand. “Oh no, shit. You meant that it’s suspicious, right? You think he’ll figure out about us if I’ll start asking again? I know that Miles is smart but I don’t know how much credit should I give him…”

“ _ What?! _ ” Peter sputtered, his eyes wide. He was glad that their food didn’t arrive yet because he would definitely spit or choke on something, if he was eating. “How the hell do you know his name?”

“Oh.” Deadpool sheepishly scratched his neck, shrugging again. “Well, at the party there was this big  _ ‘Happy 22 birthday Miles’ _ made from balloons so I thought it’s not a secret anymore.”

Peter just stared at him for a few seconds, mind blank, before putting his face in his hands and cackled.

“Oh my god,” he giggled, squeezing his cheeks and grinning uncontrollably. “You’re right, there was. He put them on the wall himself, fuck, I probably shouldn’t laugh.” He sighed and titled his head. “He knows that you know?”

“Nah, I didn’t tell him, I know he doesn't trust me and I was worried that it would freak him out a little too much. You think I should? He’s still kind of angry at me for coming and giving him cash, he said he doesn’t want my bloody money. I predicted it, of course, and gave him  _ only _ the bills that I made legitimately, as a true, law-abiding citizen. He’s still kind of bitching about it, tho.”

Peter snorted, relieved that it wasn’t his fault Deadpool found out Miles’ identity. He’d never forgive himself if something that important slipped because of his recklessness. 

“To be perfectly honest, I thought you’d also refuse to go anywhere with me because of what I do for a living. I still don’t quite understand your choice, but I also don’t believe in White’s theory that you're a psychopath and serial killer who wants to try to finally finish me. Bad people are not allowed to look  _ that _ good.” He pointed at Peter with his index finger, accusingly.

“It’s not like I do enjoy the fact that you’re a hitman who pays for our meal with the check he got from killing someone.” Peter put his hands together on the table, dropping his gaze. It was true, this didn’t leave him unbothered like someone would have thought, just... why should he care so much, since the man will have him only for a moment anyway? 

“But,” he looked up at Wade, who sat tensed on the other side of the box, listening to him in anticipation. “I see more in you. And maybe I shouldn’t. But I don’t believe that someone who’s hanging out with Spider-Man, rescuing people from being beaten up, refusing to touch someone who’s drunk and keeping other heroes' identities a secret can be really that horrible.”

Aaand he overshared. Peter cursed loudly in his thoughts, barely stopping himself from slamming the table with his head. He was supposed to tell the man something half true, not basically admit his pathetic pining!

Deadpool’s gaze was nearly drilling a hole in his skull at this point, the intensity of it causing goosebumps on Peter’s neck. “I think you should listen more to what other people say.” Deadpool’s voice was hoarse, body unmoving. “There are reasons why Miles wouldn’t want you near me. Why would no one act like you if they were in your shoes. Fuck, I’m a selfish piece of shit and that’s the only reason why we’re hanging out right now, if I was a better man I would never ask you out. Good thing it’s probably gonna end soon…” Deadpool sighed and rubbed at his eyes.

“I… don’t understand.” Peter's mouth went dry, this time from far less pleasant reasons. He wasn’t following Deadpool’s train of thoughts and what did he mean that it was about to end soon? Of course Peter knew that it was. After all, he was perfectly prepared for this menatlly, to end this evening with him fucked good yet still unsatisfied, sad and kind of heartbroken, like always after an event like this. But Wade said it like he meant something completely different, like he meant not the evening but the next five minutes, and Peter felt really lost. 

Before he could ask any more questions, the waiter interrupted them, bringing their order. They waited patiently as the man put out the whole load of food, thanking him after and ignoring his insecure glance between them.

“Can you explain it to me now, what did you mean by saying it was gonna end soon?” Asked Peter the moment they were alone again, furrowing his brows in annoyance.

“Woah sweetums, that’s all of your order? Didn’t know someone so tiny would fit so much inside!” Deadpool’s playful tone was clearly forced, and Peter laid his forearms on the wood as he leaned in, trying to make Wade look him in the eyes.

“I’m an average size and I have a good metabolic rate, please don’t change the subject.” He used his best authoritative voice on the second part of his sentence, watching Deadpool fidget in his place.

“Fucking  _ fine _ , stop the kicked puppy stare, jeez.” Wade shook his head and groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose for a few seconds. Then he took his hand back and gestured with his head at the food in front of Peter. “You sure you don’t want to eat that first? It looks tasty and this date would last longer. I mean, it’s still my record time and I wouldn’t want you to puke, not yet.”

Peter never felt so confused in his entire life. 

“Why the hell would I pu… oh.” The enlightenment hit him with the force of a monster truck, finally clarifying this ridiculous situation. He remembered the thought that tried to appear in his mind since he saw Deadpool at the beginning of this meeting, with face and hands covered. Years ago, because of Tony’s and Steve’s distraction, he took a peek on SHIELD super classified files about the antihero. There was a long and unclear paragraph about his healing factor, that also included the speculations about his skin condition that seemed to be in really bad state after all of the experiments Deadpool went through. 

He sighed in relief.

“You have scars, right? That’s what you’re so scared about? That I’ll want to go after I see them? Well, you don’t have to, really, I don’t care about them.” Peter smiled softly at the man, trying to encourage him. He wanted to eat a nice meal on his first date ever, and some healing skin wasn’t going to stop him, definitely not.

Wade only blinked at him more. “Well, you clearly have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about sweetums, but I appreciate the effort anyway.” He slid a hand along the length of his face in a resigned gesture.

“No, you’re wrong.” Peter’s stubbornness didn’t let him allow Deadpool’s subtle warning to distract him. “I… I’ve seen plenty of wounds in the past, it won’t scare me like you think it will.”

“But it always does!” Deadpool didn’t quite raise his voice, but hint of it coming was there, words full of sorrow and anger. “It always fucking does and they always fucking say that it won’t be a problem but it always fucking is. So just please let me leave it there baby boy and do not push. Eat.”

Peter never really learned when to stop. Even when it came to annoyed mercenaries.

“But I want to eat  _ with you _ .” 

Wade huffed in frustration, fist clenching.

“Fine! If you want to end this date so badly then here you are, bon appetit!” He hissed with resentment, along with tugging his mask up over the bridge of his nose.

First thing that Peter saw was his smile. Crooked exactly like he imagined it under the mask, now a little sad in the corners, expectant. Then, there was this jaw, strong looking and sharp, making Peter’s mouth water and guts turning into lava, the greedy and eager part of his mind wanting him to launch himself over the table to  _ lick it _ . He could imagine his own teeth nipping at this glorious jaw bone playfully, the idea almost causing him to moan.

And then, there was skin. Scarred, everywhere. In different shades of pink, textured a little like a tree bark. Peter wondered how it would feel under his fingers. Wondered if it would scratch him between his sensitive thighs.

“Why the hell are you  _ blushing _ right now?” Wade’s voice was full of pure disbelief. “Is that your coping mechanism? You’re blushing and then vomiting, yes? Did I guess right? Okay, say something Petey, you’re starting to freak me out.”

“You have a nice jaw,” was the only thing Peter was able to mumble, still transfixed by Wade’s mouth and the way they moved while forming words. He imagined it many times yet everything surprised him.

“I have _ what _ ?” Deadpool’s voice was a little higher than usual, and for a few seconds there was silence between them again, before he roared with laughter, making Peter jump and snap out of this strange state. The cashier stared at them nervously and the boy felt his cheeks growing warmer.

“Stop laughing at me.” Peter kicked Wade lightly in the calf under the table. 

“Oh,” Deadpool brushed the fake tears from his eyes, his grin wolfish and making Peter’s heart skip a beat. “Sorry baby, I wasn’t laughing at you, nuh-uh. It’s just… you’re really something else, you know?”

He knew. He really knew that he was different, Deadpool didn’t have to remind him. He heard similar words a lot earlier, from many people, and it always hurt the same. Because, what was he supposed to do with that? This was him, nothing less nothing more. He couldn’t just change his taste, his character and the way he perceived the world around him. And for sure he wasn’t about to try to do this for some asshole. 

Yet Wade said this affectionately, like he meant it in the best way possible, and this was something Peter had no idea how to take.

He shook his head, forcing himself to take his eyes off Deadpool, down on his food.

“You wanna bet who’s going to eat this faster?” He pointed at their meals, arching his brow. Wade’s smile widened impossibly, and Peter wondered how anyone could puke at a sight as mesmerizing as this.

“I _ really _ want to see you in action sweetums but maybe we’ll race another time okay? Wouldn’t want you to choke and die on our first date, that would be so fucking sad even if I had a chance for mouth to moutch resuscitation.”

Peter really tried to ignore the words about a different time, that were probably just an empty promise, but his stupid heart didn’t want to listen, beating like it wanted to break through his chest and fly right into Deadpool’s rough hands.

“Promises, promises.” He smiled back, hoping that his face was not showing the emotions that were currently overwhelming his thoughts, and reached for one of his tacos, relieved that it was still warm. 

Deadpool did the same, still grinning, and they started to eat. There wasn’t any pleasant silence between them, because apparently Deadpool couldn’t stay quiet even while eating, and after biting and swallowing the first mouthful of his own food, he was talking again, this time about one of his trips to Mexico. The story was so bizarre Peter almost forgot to chew his food, listening with attention to every word, eyes tracking Wade’s lips. He wouldn’t believe half of it if it wasn’t Deadpool who was telling the anecdote, supplying it with so many details Peter doubted anyone would make up.

He wasn’t accustomed to people talking so passionately about missions they were on, and it really meant something since he knew probably the majority of superheroes that lived on their planet. Tony and Steve always treated their job like a highly unpleasant duty, a source of danger that put their only son in risk. He got that and tried not to pressure them, even when he was a curious child that just wanted to hear some thrilling stories like all the kids his age. Later, when he was older, they of course shared some pieces with him, but always repeated that something was classified or confidential, and they weren’t allowed to talk about it. Even aunt Tasha shared this attitude and didn’t tell him anything exciting about her expeditions, and she was always more chilled than his fathers.

Later, when he met Miles and Gwen, it changed a little, his friends speaking with him more openly than the rest of the superheroes, almost never holding back the emotional parts about them kicking the butts of villains. Yet it still wasn’t always a nice topic for them and sometimes they tried to avoid it, tired of the world they had to face at night. 

Deadpool was in a different league than all of them.

He didn’t have any contracts that obliged him to stay quiet about what he did at work, because it was all illegal anyway and they couldn’t do anything to him if he did. He was his own boss, and people who hired him had to either adjust to his terms and methods or not contact him in the first place. That made him a great storyteller, one who didn’t withhold any information to himself and described every second of his adventures with enthusiasm, that was truly touching and terrifying at the same time. When Peter bashfully asked a question about the part that really interested him, he didn’t hesitate with telling him every detail he could think about.

And Peter was delighted, even if a little worried, mostly about his moral compass than anything else.

“And _ then _ I finally managed to catch this fucker, you know, with my pants burned probably in seven places at this point, White and Yellow screaming at me to finish this shit and find something to eat,“ he bit at his burrito and swallowed, “only for him to fucking  _ kaboom _ himself with me, would you believe? Rude! Of course it didn’t do shit to me but let me tell ya sweet cheeks, coming back from being blown up is not all glitter and unicorns, it hurts like a bitch. Don’t mention the gawkers that came after this explosion to see what happened, only to find me lying on the ground like meat scraps with my junk out, healing slowly. And the only thing that I knew in spanish back then was  _ ¡hola bonita!  _ which I guess wasn’t the most reassuring thing that naked half dead body can tell you.”

Peter laughed so loudly he hiccuped, reaching for his lemonade and trying to calm himself. He couldn’t believe that a story about the mercenary’s profession could amuse him so much, and was almost sure that if his fathers could see him now they wouldn’t be happy. But Deadpool pointed out before every one of his stories, that the targets he was about to  _ unalive _ , as he liked to call it, were really bad guys that busied themselves in human trafficking or were regulary beating the shit out of prostitutes they ordered, terrorizing the staff of some respected clubs. And really, Peter couldn’t feel sorry for them. Of course he didn’t think that anyone deserved to die, but it was in the past anyway and he was glad that those people were no longer able to hurt anyone. 

He wondered what normal couples discussed on their dates. Probably something boring.

When Peter finished his drink he noticed with surprise that both him and Deadpool had eaten their portions. He didn’t even remember when it happened, too absorbed in Wade. And he was supposed to write something to Shuri to let her know that everything was okay!

“Time to leave, huh? We don’t want to overstay our welcome, do we? This waiter has probably been considering calling the Avengers since we came inside.” Deadpool smiled and pointed subtly with his head towards the counter. Peter nodded with agreement and they both got up, cleaning behind themselves as much as they could before leaving the restaurant. 

When they were outside and Peter turned to the mercenary, he saw that the man had his mask back, exactly like he previously wore it. He couldn’t hold back the regret and sadness. He felt like he didn’t get enough of the sight and he had no idea when he'd see it again.  _ If  _ he’d see it again.

“What now?” he asked without thinking, and immediately cringed.  _ What the fuck Parker, even you know that questions like this are really inappropirate and awkward!  _

But Deadpool didn’t seem really bothered by it, as he shrugged casually, looking at Peter thoughtfully.

“To be perfectly honest, I didn’t plan anything beyond the meal. I was absolutely certain that you would be long gone at this point, running and screaming. I’m still in shock, okay?” He shook his head to himself and mumbled something under his breath that Peter couldn’t understand, before lifting his hand in an outraged gesture. “Shit, I didn’t even ask you if you still want to continue this date! Who the hell I am, a fucking caveman? Where are my manners for god’s sake, I’m losing my head around you...” The last part he also murmured so quietly that the boy wasn’t sure if he heard his words right.

“I… yeah, of course I want to continue!” Peter looked at Deadpool like he was crazy (and well, he probably was but that wasn’t the point at the moment), completely surprised. Deadpool didn’t plan anything? But then, what about their night together? He didn’t expect that? What was happening? 

“Really?!” Deadpool squealed with happiness, then, more angrily, he hissed, looking at nothing in particular. “ _ Shut up Yellow, I don’t owe you shit, and I can’t give you money even if I wanted to, which I don’t, because this bet was stupid anf it’s just impossible as you don’t have your own body _ .” Then, smiling again, he switched back into talk. “Wow Petey I’m flattered, really. I might not have planned anything specific, but the good thing I learned in my life is, you can always rely on cliche!” 

Peter wondered why he wasn’t taken aback by Wade’s unexpected conversations with the voices in his head and the fact that he was probably the most unstable person he knew, but somehow, that was it. He didn’t mind it at all. 

“Which means that…?” Peter lifted his brow, not following.

“Which means that I’m taking you to the arcade of course!” Deadpool clasped his hands joyfully, his wide grin visible through the fabric of his mask. Peter’s fingers itched to reach for it and tug the material up so he could see this smile again. “That is, if you want to.”

“So I look like the arcade type of guy, huh?” Peter hid his smile, being unable to resist the urge to tease the man a little.

“Well, duh? One hundred percent baby.” Wade didn’t even hesitate, as he leaned in and booped Peter’s nose. “You look like the cutest nerd in the world and if I’m wrong, I won’t trust myself ever again. Not now that I have many reasons to do so.”

Peter’s cheeks hurt him from smiling and he couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this, so silly and light, like he weighed nothing at all.

“Guess it’s your lucky day then, big guy.” Peter winked at the man and grabbed his arm just like before, tilting his head. “Now, shall we?”

Again, Peter could almost feel Deadpool’s delighted surprise, the weight of his stare on Peter’s neck tickling as they walked, passing the people around them. Peter sent another text and decided to also tell Wade something, because he felt bad with only taking from the man. Of course, he couldn’t tell anything as interesting as the stories he heard, but decided to entertain them both with the stupid events from his past, like when he was learning how to ride a bike as a child and bumped into his dad who was filming it, or how he lost his first tooth due to a fall because he bet his friend that he’d climb the highest tree in the kindergarten yard.

Those were just stupid stories but Wade listened like Peter was dictating him the passwords to the top secret files at the Pentagon, and it kind of made Peter fall for him a little more. The fact that despite having a problem with stopping himself from talking, Wade was still able to actively listen and not interrupt him was weirdly touching. 

He also tried to shut his thoughts that were telling him that he’s oversharing, that giving this much information about him, about his past was too informal, too familiar. He felt both vulnerable and powerful, seeing how eager Wade is in listening about his childhood. He wished he could keep this feeling, keep  _ him _ for a little longer than this day. 

They arrived at the place they were heading to, the big neon sign pouring the soft blue light on the pavement and nearest window panes. 

Deadpool held the door for him again and they both came in, dulled lights giving privacy and making the right atmosphere. Noises of machines being played filled their ears, the smell of plastic and burned popcorn mixing together.

They bought the tokens (Wade didn’t even want to listen about Peter spending a penny on it, funding everything himself) and debated where they should go first. There were so many options they just decided to try one by one. 

Peter originally wanted to hold back a little, because he knew his competitive nature was not the sexiest part of him, often annoying even his friends when they had their game nights. He decided that playing for fun can’t be that much worse than playing to win, and was well prepared to just let himself chill a little, until he was completely crushed in Donkey Kong by Wade, who played like his life depended on it. 

He huffed with annoyance, glaring at the man who only winked at him.

“ _ Maximum effort _ baby, always.”

“Oh, really?” Peter hissed, taking a step back from the console to pull up his sleeves and blow away the curls from his forehead. “I’ll show you the maximum effort. Rematch, now. Start the damn game, big guy.”

“You’re sexy when you’re angry, but it's still not enough to distract me from winning. Prepare yourself for defeat!” Wade cackled with delight, turning on the game. Peter didn’t respond, focused completely on the monitor in front of him. This time he didn’t hold back and stepped into his rival mode, when all that mattered was to end this game as number one.

Ned said that Peter had issues, MJ complained that he could use his ambitious side for a better purpose. And maybe they both were right, but Peter didn’t think of it when he and Wade finished, and his score was a whole thousand points higher. He blinked, breaking the trance and looking up uncenrairly, only to see Wade almost beaming, grinning widely at the result and at Peter.

“And that’s what I’m freaking talking about!” He cooed, reaching like he wanted to hug Peter but stopping himself halfway, leaning away like nothing happened. “I knew there’s a big nerd in you who’ll finally be a match for me, you just needed a little encouragement.” 

Peter rubbed his neck, smiling sheepishly, and pointed with his thumb. “So we’re going for the fatal round or…?”

“Oh, actually I want to see you on the other automats now, since you’re putting your heart in it.” 

And they did exactly that. They were moving from machine to machine, playing fiercely and without restraint. Peter worries about his ambitious approach disappearing completely, as he saw that Deadpool was as competitive as him, and that he took joy in rivaling him. He let Peter release his full potential and demanded from him to be unapologetic about it. 

They played all sorts of games, from the classics like Pac-Man to some unknown shooting game with zombies, with plastic guns on the cables. Wade, of course, won every game from the second category, but Peter kicked his butt in many others, including for example an emotional round in air hockey. 

There was also the electronic basketball that they picked at the end, in which Peter was miserably losing. Wade was throwing the balls like he was a professional player, each of his moves smooth and gracious. 

“ _ Stupid fucking shit, _ ” cursed Peter, after the third time in a row his ball bounced off the edge of the basket, falling in the wrong direction.

“Damn Petey, you kiss your mama with that mouth?” Wade snorted without stopping his moves, and Peter only huffed with annoyance.

“I don’t have a mother,” he said without thinking, making Deadpool turn to him with the ball in his hands, eyes wide.

“Oh, shit darling, I’m so sor─”

“No, no, no, no, don’t apologize, I didn’t mean it like that!” Peter facepalmed himself, sighing. “I thought it slipped somewhere in the conversations, but apparently it didn’t, sorry. I just have two fathers, that’s all, they adopted me when I was young, didn’t mean to make it sound tragic.”

“Oh. OH. Thank  _ GOD _ I thought I just made a huge mood-breaking faux pas.” Wade put a hand on his heart, relieved.

Peter laughed and then the game they forgot about made a loud noise announcing that their gameplay was over. Wade of course became the unquestionable winner but both of their tempers cooled because of the conversation and he even forgot to brag about it. He just gave his hand to Peter self-consciously and the boy took it, loving how his slender fingers fit with Wade’s larger ones. He was definitely gonna remember this day.

They left the building and Peter noticed that it was already dark outside, which meant they spent a lot longer in the arcade than he thought.

“Hey, let me walk you home.” Wade pleaded softly, apparently thinking about it too and Peter nodded, tugging him in the direction where his apartment was.

He suddenly felt so sad he nearly swayed on his feet.

He didn’t want it to end. The time with Wade was heartwarming but passed so quickly it scared him. He wanted to scream that he’s not ready to end this relationship, not ready to give it up even for the best night of his life. 

When will be the next time somebody will treat him with that much respect, minding the boundaries he would set if he was a normal person? Next time someone will willingly listen to him talk about how he was climbing the furniture like an alpinist when he was six? Will anyone ever tell him a story as fascinating as Wade’s? Encourage him to beat their ass in a game instead of bitching about it? Send him silly messages without a particular reason? Call him pet names like they mean it?

This all sounded so stupid Peter couldn’t believe those were his thoughts. This deal was clear from the beginning, one pity date to silence doubts and nothing more. Why was he getting so emotional now? 

_ Stupid, stupid self control. _ Peter cursed himself as they walked, Deadpool’s chattering for the first time that day not making any sense to him, as he only faked paying attention, too absorbed by his thoughts.  _ If I was just a little stronger I wouldn’t let myself feel too attached to the man who was only interested in banging me, like all of the guys before. _

“It’s here.” Peter mumbled reluctantly when they approached the block where his apartment was situated, wishing he could do anything to hold up the moment for even a little longer.

He couldn’t recognize himself; he should have been excited! He was about to have sex with the most attractive man ever, who was visibly interested in him too. This should be enough to leave a shiver of excitement on his neck, but all he could feel was a suffocating regret and sadness. Just when he had a taste of what a normally developing relationship could be, it was about to end. He wanted to feel this confidence he had days ago at the party, the one who told him to just grab Deadpool’s tie and take what he wanted but now he could feel only ashes of that burning desire that devoured him then.

His heart was… _ tired _ , of being used and left all the time.

Wade stopped him before the entry of the building. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to take me inside, I assume that you would rather keep your address in secret.” He squeezed Peters hand and the boy furrowed his brows, not understanding. How the man was supposed to fuck him without coming in? Was Deadpool into voyeurism or something and wanted them to do it on the stairway where anyone could see?

“I had a time of my life baby boy, really. Thanks for agreeing to go out with me and not running away after you saw my ugly mug.” Wade took Peter’s hand and kissed it through his mask, just like the day they met. “Please send me a text when you get into your apartment safely, okay sweetums? See you!”

And then he was gone.

One second he was on the edge of Peter’s personal space, holding Peter’s fingers in his warm palm, and then suddenly he was walking away, disappearing in the shadows on the end of the street. 

And Peter still stood in place, unable to move, with his hand frozen in a weird position where the man released it. He was still waiting for the question to be asked, for the words to be spoken. Those that would ask if they could come in, if Peter didn’t mind this evening ending in the bedroom. 

But there was no one beside him there to say anything. To ask anything. 

The colder blast of the wind made the goosebumps on his arms appear and he turned to come inside the building, moving on autopilot. He climbed the stairs, then pulled out the keys and opened his doors, mechanically taking off his shoes and closing behind himself. 

He took his phone and sent two messages, one to Shuri and one to Wade, not really focusing on what he was typing. He received the replies almost immediately and he just stared at them, watching the screen of his phone like it would help him figure out what on earth had just happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how to thank you guys enough for commenting and leaving kudos here, it means so much you have no idea ;__;
> 
> anyhoo, NEXT CHAPTER FEBRUARY 14! And yes, you're right, that's Valentine's Day! For this special occasion, the chapter will be longer than usual ;)) Love you guys!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As always, I want to thank my incredible beta [Turnip ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimidTurnip) for correcting all my grammar mistakes, I know it's not easy. I love you sweetheart 🧡

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day guys 🧡

“...Are you even listening to me, kiddo?”

“Huh?” Peter raised his cheek from his knees, looking at his aunt absent-mindely. “Sorry, you were saying?”

Natasha sighed and shook her head.

“What’s wrong with you, Peter? You’ve said barely a word since you came in. I know that we’re supposed to train here and not gossip but maybe I’m getting old and would like to hear you talking about your day or something. It would be nice and we could bond.” Despite the sarcasm in Natasha’s voice, Peter knew her long enough to notice the wrinkle on her face that appeared when she was worried. “Is everything okay?”

Yes. No.

“I’m fine, sorry for zoning out, it won’t happen again.” He reached again to his feet, stretching and trying to focus. 

A gentle but firm hand on his arm stopped him and Peter looked up at his aunt, who was staring at him with a serious expression.

“If you don’t want to tell me, it’s fine, I won’t push you.” She squeezed his arm firmly, brows furrowed. “But if something happened you can always tell me. And if it’s something that’s not directly putting your life in danger, I promise not to tell Tony and Steve.”

Peter bit his lip, lowering his gaze.

Oh how he wished he could tell Natasha everything and finally get these thoughts out of his head! He felt like they were starting to consume him and he desperately needed someone who he could tell about what happened to him. He needed a second, less influenced by emotions opinion about what the hell all of this meant.

But yeah, from all the people he was considering his aunt wasn’t even in the top ten. 

Because really, it would need him to tell her far too much about his sex life. More than he was comfortable with, and it would end with her murdering every single guy that had ever fucked him. Which wasn’t the way Peter was planning to deal with this. Well, not until there were better options. And so what if Peter still didn't find them? He was pretty sure that they existed and he just needed to use his brain a little.

But telling the truth, almost the whole week passed and still nothing good or smart came from his intense thinking. If anything, he had even more questions than before.

He wanted to call Wade and scream at him, demand answers and explanation. The scraps of his self control hold him back, telling him that it’s definitely not a good idea, but he was really close to screwing his dignity and doing exactly that. He was desperate! For some normality, for the sense of safety, which was completely destroyed by Deadpool.

“There’s nothing to tell, I swear. I just had a rough week at college that’s all.” From the look on his aunt’s face he knew she didn’t believe in a single word he said, but she dropped it, announcing the end of their warm-up.

She maybe wasn't Peter’s first choice when it came to embarrassing confessions, but she knew him well and took care of him in her own way. Which meant that she forced him to work ten times harder on their training, to the point that he became a sweating and panting mess that could barely stand on his own feet. 

And then his mind finally went quiet.

Of course, not for too long.

He was slowly soaping his chest, savouring the moment of relaxation when everything came back again, overwhelming him. Wade’s arms, his beautiful crooked smile, the brush of leather on Peter’s palm...

His fast escape on the end of their date.

Peter angrily shut off the water, no longer relaxed. He took the towel and started aggressively drying his hair, like he wanted to wipe the memories away with them. And oh, how easy life could be if he was able to do exactly that! No more wondering about the double meaning of other people's actions, about their intentions, about their stupidly gentle hands and about the fact that _ they didn’t send even one message since they last met _ .

Peter groaned with frustration, covering his eyes in the soft material. If this fucking date ended like it  _ should have _ , he would’t be spending even a minute thinking about why the man didn’t call. But it didn’t. It didn’t and now he couldn’t sleep, nagged by the questions of what he didn’t know the answers to. 

Because it was all so illogical. Deadpool asked him out to silence his own conscience, but then at the end he didn’t fuck Peter. He took him to the arcade even if he didn’t plan that, just to spend more time with Peter, but then ran away before they had a chance to land in bed. He paid for Peter in everything, but didn’t expect even a blowjob after. He claimed that Peter was gorgeous, but then didn’t touch him on his own will. 

Peter wanted to scream.

Was this all some sick joke he didn’t get? But if it was, shouldn’t fucking him be the punch line? Why go out with him, why play lovestruck teenagers? No one out of their own free will would date him, he got that, thank you very much. So why the fuss? Why texting before, why bothering his friends, why acting like a wounded animal when revealing his skin? Could Deadpool fake his sorrow then? 

But the most important,  _ why the complete radio silence since their date _ ? 

Peter stepped out of the shower, to the changing room, where he quickly put on his dark blue dress and black leather jacket, throwing the shorts and tank top in his gym bag carelessly. He fished out his phone from it and hesitated for a moment, looking at the black screen. 

Was Wade waiting for him to write first? Could that be the point? But that didn’t make sense, to the day of their date Wade was the one who  _ always _ wrote first, spamming all the nonsense he wanted and nothing stopped him then, so why now? Was he trying to see if Peter cared? But if not, if Peter was wrong, he would make a total fool of himself. Maybe the man was just… done with him and didn’t want anything more. Maybe he lied to Peter and after the date he thought that Peter really wasn’t that attractive and just wanted to back off in the most polite way possible?

If that was the truth and Peter texted him now only to be ghosted or messaged back with some cruel words, he wouldn’t be able to bear it. And so he chose to remain silent, even if his whole body itched in anticipation. It’s been  _ days _ .

Maybe Peter Parker was not only unlovable, but was also becoming unfuckable? 

He snorted to himself, adjusting the bag on his shoulder and tucking the phone back in the pocket of his jacket. He was getting pathetic and ridiculous, that was for sure. 

***

After the third time his parents glanced at each other pointedly, Peter decided he couldn’t take it anymore.

“ _ What _ ?” he asked, straightening and looking at them annoyed as he put down the chopsticks he was using to eat his thai noodles.

Another exchange of looks, the quick wordless argument about who should start this first, and after a few seconds Steve sighed and turned to Peter, just like the boy expected.

“We noticed you’re kind of… quiet today, and we’re wondering if something happened maybe?” His pop’s words were careful, as if he already knew that the topic was sensitive.

Peter immediately closed his mouth in a tight line. Yeah, no way he was going to discuss  _ that  _ with his fathers, no matter how much he loved them.

“Something happened with your friends?” Steve tried again, and Peter only shook his head, still avoiding eye contact. He felt Tony’s watchful stare at him, and knew he was screwed. People often underestimated Stark by thinking that he was cold hearted and unmoved, stripped of tact and lacking empathy. They didn’t know that it was all an act, because when it came to Tony’s loved ones he could tell what was off in the mere seconds, no detail escaping his attention.

“So,” now the man drummed his fingers on the table next to his takeout, not even bothering to make his statement sound like a question. “A love problem, huh?”

Peter flinched against his will and he immediately knew that it was all the confirmation his dad needed.

“Wait, really?” Steve, the more oblivious from the two looked between them, his brows lifted high. “Peter you  _ have someone _ ? And you  _ didn’t tell us _ ?”

“Oh my god.” The boy hid his face in his hands, cheeks burning. “It’s not like that! I’m not dating anyone and even if I did I wouldn’t tell you because it’s embarrassing and nothing happened and no I don’t want to talk about it so can we just leave it?” He glared at his fathers from between his fingers, not liking at all the small smile on his dad’s lips.

Steve still had a puzzled, and now also kind of hurt expression on his face, but Tony only raised his hands.

“Hey kid, I get it, really. You don’t want to share something like this with old men like us, that’s understandable.”

“No it’s not,” mumbled Steve, but he was ignored.

“The thing is — ” his dad leaned a little to look at him more seriously, his expression still gentle. “We can really help you if you just let us. You think I was with this grandpa my whole life? God, I wish that was true but unfortunately, before I managed to figure out the meaning of a healthy relationship, true love and all that bullshit, I caused myself a lot of trouble and made a bunch of huge fucking mistakes. And if I could use my experience to help my only son somehow, even in the slightest way possible, then making them was worth it, really.”

Peter blinked a few times, trying not to start sobbing like a child after his dad’s words. 

He often forgot how much they meant to him, always ready to support him, even if they are clumsy in their measures. They wouldn’t hesitate to share their unpleasant memories and experiences if it meant that he could learn something from them, and he wanted to hug them in that moment so badly to let them know how much he appreciated their gesture. 

Because that was all  _ he _ could give them. 

Peter doubted that his parents ever had a problem like this. Where they for some unexplainable reasons gave their body to whoever wanted it, agreeing to struggle from the hurtful words people threw at them after. Where they stand out so much no one wanted to get involved with them more than necessary to fuck you. Where they were so starved for affection that just a few kind words from an extremely dangerous mercenary was enough to turn their whole world upside down and mess with their heads.

No, telling the truth was off the table, if he couldn’t tell his aunt, he definitely couldn’t speak a word to his fathers. If Natasha would murder those poor guys, Tony and Steve would straight up haunt them and torture them for the rest of eternity. And would probably both have had a heart attack and killed Peter for going on a date with Deadpool.

“I… thanks dad, I mean it. It’s just… I don’t think you’ve ever been in a similar situation if I may be honest.” Peter sent them a tired but genuine smile that of course didn’t reassure his parents at all.

“I know you don’t want us to worry but it’s kind of really hard when you’re saying things like that.” Steve rubbed his temples with an unhappy expression and Peter snorted, grabbing his chopsticks again to stir his food.

“Don’t be, please. I’m fine, I can deal with it, I swear.” He tried to sound like he believed in his own words, desperately wanting his parents to just drop it already.

“Whatever you say kid, I trust your judgement in this,” sighed Tony, and Peter suddenly felt dirty. “Just remember that communication is the key.”

Yeah. If it would only be so easy.

“I know. Thanks dad.” Peter returned to eating his portion, trying to pretend he didn't see the worried glares his parents exchanged again. 

***

To understand his fathers and his aunt's reaction was easy, really. But when his friends started to get nosy, Peter considered that he may really have a problem of some kind.

“Yes Gwen, everything is just  _ peachy _ , so better focus on the game because it’s probably the fifth time I killed you in this round.” He snapped annoyed, quickly adjusting his headphones and considering muting the channel with voice chat when he heard Gwen’s angry sigh. 

“Oh yeah, I can see how everything is  _ peachy _ since you screamed at me just because I asked if something happened because you’re quiet today.” Peter made a face at the computer screen, trying to avoid the bullets Miles’ character shot dangerously close to him.

“Just because I don’t brag every time Ned is getting a headshot from me doesn't mean that I’m up to something, I can be nice sometimes, can’t I?”

“Oh, you can and we would really appreciate that, but the thing is, we  _ know _ when something is wrong and you’re not telling us everything,” MJ added, and the rest gave approving hums to her words.

“Can we just focus on the game?” Peter grit his teeth, gripping the mouse with more force than necessary. “If you guys didn’t want to play Counter-Strike you could simply say so.”

“We do want to play.” Ned didn’t sound at all bothered by the fact that at the same time Peter was emptying his magazine at him. “We would just also like to know what the hell is happening with our friend, maybe? You’ve been weird this whole week, man.”

Peter was glad that they couldn’t see his face then, his eyes full of angry tears.

It was just… so much. The entire week he was struggling to hide his emotions and figure out what to do in the strange situation he found himself in, trying to put on a happy face for his family only to fail so miserably. And that seemed like the simplest task of them all! He felt tired, useless and frustrated. 

He couldn’t even distract himself with their game marathon because his friends decided that was the best moment to start pestering him again. And okay, maybe it was partially his fault for avoiding their questions lately when they were all together, face to face, but no one said that they would take from him his relaxation time in return!

“I’m good. Just rough week, I have four assignments to return and I fought with my dad,” he lied, thankful for the privacy the screen gave him, hiding his grimace successfully. 

“What about this time?” Miles asked casually, and Peter gladly took the peace offering, as the hero subtly gave him an opportunity to change the subject a little.

“Ah, you know. Same old shit, I don’t take care of myself well enough and all that.” He tried to sound convincingly, at the same time biting his lip so hard it almost bled. Thank god they had this conversation now.

Apparently Peter wasn’t as bad at lying as he thought, because his friends only grunted in sympathy, not asking any further questions. 

“I see these days are hard for all of us,” Gwen said, and Peter focused on the gameplay again, trying to sneak up behind his enemy’s back. “I had to stop like, four bank robbery attempts in  _ one night _ on Tuesday. I thought I’m going to murder those dumb robbers.”

“Speaking of murdering,” something in Miles' microphone cracked for a second but he fixed it quickly and continued, “Deadpool started asking about you again, Peter.”

The boy froze, eyes getting wide. His opponent in the game turned back and killed him easely, but he couldn’t care less about his streak being destroyed, not now when his mind halted like someone pressed the off button on his skull. 

“Oh, really?” he asked in a small voice, barely recognizing Ned’s thrilled squawk at his broken score.

“Yup, it seems like he still hasn’t recovered from his crush.” Miles sounded distracted and resigned, not at all like he suspected anything and Peter’s breathing came a little easier. 

“He asked about my favourite colour again?” he tried to sound mocking but probably failed, too stunned to care. Wade was asking about him? When? Why? It had to be after their date so during the radio silence so maybe… maybe that meant something and…

“Ha, weirdly no, he didn’t.  _ MJ, you bitch, I’ll repay you later for this! _ It was strange because he asked how have you been and if you’re feeling okay. I don’t know why the fuck he said that and I’m starting to think he’s stalking you or something. He’s a total creep so I wouldn’t be surprised at all, I’ll try to keep an eye on him later.”

Peter found himself in such a deep state of shock he just sat for a moment without moving, forgetting he was supposed to play or respond to Miles’ words. His character died for the third time, and Ned’s delighted cheering was slowly turning into puzzled grunting.

“Uh, Peter are you ok? Are you still playing?” he asked, but Peter couldn’t say anything, his eyes not seeing the monitor in front of him.

“Hey, did I scare you with this stalking thing?” Miles obviously misread his reaction, cursing under his breath. “Fuck, sorry man, I was just shooting the shit I didn’t really mean that, I don’t think he’d has invaded your privacy yet, it was probably just him being odd as always. Want me to check it anyway?” 

No. Peter didn’t want that. Didn’t need that. He knew the man didn’t do that, he was more than sure of it. 

But could he really be that certain about him? It was Deadpool after all. A mercenary. A murderer, bat-shit crazy guy who liked to stab people when given the opportunity.

He felt naive.

“No,” he heard himself speaking, his brain not catching up with his moving mouths. “No it’s okay, I know you were joking, I just zoned out for a moment. Dad is calling me. I need to answer.” The lies slipped easily from his tongue and he turned off the game, almost not recognizing his friends’ worried goodbyes, he also closed the discord app.

There was absolute silence in his room again as he stood up and started walking back and forth. In his mind though, at least six different voices were screaming at him to do six different things at the same time. He was really considering the option where he was supposed to start crying like a baby when he suddenly felt like he had enough. Enough of this uncertainty, enough of worrying, of unfinished business. He wanted to finally move on with Wade and this whole situation. And he needed closure to do this. Whatever it’s gonna be. 

He angrily got his phone out of the pocket of his hoodie and unlocked it. Before he could think better of it he clicked the call button next to Deadpool’s contact.

Two rings and Wade picked up.

“I have kind of a  déjà vu right now.” 

Peter thought that he was ready to hear that deep, gravelly voice again, but he was wrong. So wrong his knees went weak immediately and he swayed, reaching for the edge of his desk to keep himself up.

It was the emotions, all the stupid emotions that were eating him alive since the day of that unfortunate date! This insecurity and confusion, anger and hope mixed together and prevented him from focusing on anything else. He analyzed that day so many times that the memories were basically printed under his eyelids now, and he still couldn’t make sense of the course of events.

And Deadpool sounded like nothing happened. His tone was playful and genuinely surprised, like he didn’t expect Peter’s call but was glad for it anyway.

And Peter just couldn’t fucking understand him at all.

“You’re gonna insult my age again?” He asked, finding his own voice only by miracle.

Deadpool’s barked laugh made him shiver, his own lips twitching at the corners. He hated how his body relaxed slightly at this sound. It shouldn’t calm him like that, it wasn’t normal to get attached so much, to eagerly seek for the signs that everything was okay, that the man wasn’t displeased by his call or annoyed by him. It was pathetic because Peter was supposed to call and demand answers with the remaining dignity he still had, and here he was, unable to force himself to even slightly raise his voice at the man because his chuckle alone made Peter’s brain turn into jelly. 

“Nah, I won’t push my luck this time.” Deadpool sounded amused and Peter was cursing himself for the unwanted thought that maybe he  _ missed the man’s voice _ . It was dangerous territory that he shouldn’t ever cross. First, it was too soon for thoughts like this, second, the man was probably done with him and will at any second tell him to delete his number and never bother him again. Because really, he hadn’t had any other reasons to talk with Peter. He decided not to fuck him because he wasn’t good enough and that was understandable, it was the boy who was overthinking everything and was obtrusive just because he didn’t hear a firm  _ no _ .

“Don’t know what would stop you this time since back then you were all smug and cocky,” said Peter, immediately wanting to punch himself. He had that feeling a lot around the man, his foot in the mouth syndrome appearing in its full glory.

“ _ Me? Smug? _ ” Wade snorted, and Peter imagined him shaking his head. “Sweetums, the day when you called me I was shitting myself from nerves, I was sure I’m going to screw something up. I honestly have no idea how my attitude could possibly appear _ cocky _ to anyone.”

Peter’s stupid heart beat so fast it felt like it wanted to break a hole in his ribcage.

What the  _ fuck _ . Deadpool was nervous? What the hell was happening? This joke was going too far.

“Uh, what?” Peter couldn’t stop himself from asking. This call was supposed to clear up things, not mess everything up more!

“You really didn’t realize? Damn, I’m good, told you White I should have become an actor or something! And really, I must admit that now I feel the same way as then baby, not that I don’t like hearing your voice, I told you about it, I just assumed, again, that you blocked my number. You didn’t give any sign of life for the last I saw you.”

“I, uh, I’m just calling you,” the boy protested weakly, knowing how dumb it sounded.

“Yeah, that’s the part that's freaking me out.”

Peter really had no idea what to think about it. He felt like control over the conversation was slipping from him. Or maybe he didn’t have it from the beginning. 

“So I… I shouldn’t do that then? That’s what you mean?” Peter’s voice became even smaller, his throat tight. There it was. The closure he wanted. The admission that he was a liability the guy didn’t want to be responsible for.

“Petey, sometimes I feel like we’re speaking different languages. What are you talking about? Why do you think you shouldn’t do it? I thought I told you that your existence is a freaking blessing and I think of you as some fucking disney princess but uh, from an R-rated movie maybe. I’m pretty sure that flowers grow on the earth after your footsteps honey, and I was also sure that I already told you all of that so why do I hear uncertainty in your voice? Like, for real, how can you possibly not know that I’m over the moon from even the possibility of talking to you?” Deadpool’s tone was puzzled, like he genuinely had no idea why this situation was so fucked from Peter’s perspective.

It doesn't make sense. It doesn’t make any fucking sense.

“Then why didn’t you write anything?” He wished he could bite himself on the tongue faster sometimes. It would spare him the humiliation. 

“Me? Baby, I wanted to give you space. Thought you didn’t want anything to do with me after the date. Like, I know you didn’t puke after seeing my face but it didn’t mean you weren’t just holding it in long enough for our date to end. You're a brave little thing but I know that people need some time to process the sight ok?”

So that was that. Deadpool didn’t fuck him because he was gentleman enough to think that maybe Peter would have some objections because of his skin condition. That was still unusual but rational enough for Peter to understand. He suddenly felt relief. Wade wasn’t as complicated as he thought, and his behaviour still was possible to explain. He wanted Peter, but he didn’t want to impose on him, hoping that he still had a chance for something but at the same time just waiting for things to happen at their own pace. Strange, but Peter could work with that.

“And  _ you _ are silly, you know that?” The boy sat on the edge of his bed, nipping at the thread on his skirt. “I told you I don’t care about your scars! They don’t bother me. When you stopped messaging so suddenly I thought that it was because you just wanted to end it like this.”

“Wait, really? Holy fucking moly, I had no idea you could interprete it like that,  _ shit _ . And here I was, thinking I’m so smart and all that.” There was a deep and annoyed sigh on the other side, which was funny for Peter because really, why did the man sound so upset with himself? Was he thinking that he ruined his chances with Peter now? All he needed to receive that fuck was just simply  _ ask _ for it. 

If he could, Peter would pity himself. Not that long ago he had those traitorous thoughts that were telling him that he didn’t want to end this relationship just so, only to now almost pray in his mind for the man to just ask if they could bang finally, so the normality in Peter’s life could return.

“I literally cannot think about any other way I could interpret this.” He admitted honestly, laying back on the mattress.

“Hard to say but now I see that it wasn’t my best idea ever. In my defense, the fact that you’re willingly talking to me is still kind of a shock and also a noticeable error in the universe. Can’t blame me for doing stupid things around pretty boys like you, ok?”

Peter smiled widely, covering it with his hand shyly, almost like Wade could see him. He missed the compliments from the man, the way they easily slipped from his tongue, almost like he truly meant them. It made Peter feel powerful and wanted, and he was starved for this feeling more than he thought.

“Okay, I won’t. Does that mean you actually wouldn’t mind meeting again?” Peter bit his lip, gripping the phone tighter. Like this, when he was the one who made the invitation, hopefully Deadpool would finally get that he didn’t mind his skin nor the contact. That he would no longer dance around the topic, and get the courage to ask for what he wanted. This had to work, otherwise Peter had no other idea on how to communicate that he really was okay with them having sex, other than just blatantly saying it to the man.

“Wait, are you serious Petey?” Again, the astonishment in Wade’s voice was really funny for Peter. The man was so… sweet. “You really want another date?”

“Yeah, I do.” Peter smiled, even if his heart ached. He wished this could be just as innocent as it seemed. Just a date between two people who really liked each other, without any other purpose. But Peter’s life wasn’t like that.

“Holy shit! Okay, wow, this time I won’t fuck up I swear, I’ll prepare every single thing baby, you won’t regret giving me a second chance!” Deadpool sounded so excited Peter almost melted. 

“It’s not a second chance big guy, because I’m not considering the first date as a failure. You did nothing wrong okay? I… I had fun. I may not have much experience to compare it to anything but I think that was a really good time we spent together.” Shit. Shit, he wasn’t supposed to say the second part, stupid lack of control. 

“Uh, wait, hold on, someone pause the time please. You said  _ what _ ?” Of course Deadpool heard him, damn Parker’s luck.

“That I, um, had fun with you?” The boy tried to distract him but without success.

“No baby, the other part. You said you have nothing to compare that day with? Did I misunderstand something? You mean… No, surely you have been on a date before, right?” Peter bit his lip again.

“No… No I have not. Is that a problem or something?”  _ Of course it was a problem you stupid moron, no one wants to fuck unexperienced guys, and that’s what Deadpool is going to obviously think _ .

There were a few moments of silence. Oh god, he should have denied, should have lied or kept his big mouth shut. If the previous date was out of pity, Peter couldn’t figure out what he should call this one. He wanted to die from embarrassment. You’re not supposed to share pathetic secrets like this with the men you’re trying to bang! 

Suddenly there was a shuddered exhale in Peter’s ear, and the boy held his breath.

“Fuck, sorry for zoning out Petey, but just… No, it’s definitely not a problem, don’t let this thought bother your beautiful head even for a second, nuh-uh. You surprised me, that’s all. I mean… look at you. I am happy that you could spare even a second for ugly fucker like me, I was sure that you must be beating the boys off with a stick.” Wade’s voice was a little stifled with some unclear emotion and somehow even deeper than before.

Peter furrowed his brows. What? Was Deadpool really thinking his schedule was so busy he could barely spare time for the merc to meet with him?

“I… no I don’t. No one’s asked me before. It was like… my first date?” He felt nervous, even if Wade told him not to sweat it. Just admitting it made him extremely uncomfortable and he felt the shiver of anticipation on his arms. He didn’t know why he was digging his grave like this, just spilling the facts in front of the guy he liked, but he felt unable to leave it unsaid. When he opened his lips he just needed to tell everything, his filter forgotten. 

“First date?” Deadpool’s voice was high pitched. “Like, ever? And I took you on it? Why the hell didn’t you say anything, christ, I wouldn’t have fucked up so much!”

“What are you talking about?” Peter felt truly lost in Wade’s logic. He spent a wonderful time with the charming and handsome guy, who entertained him with funny stories for the whole evening, making sure Peter was also having a good time and was satisfied with the places they went. How could anyone consider that a fuck up? Not even mentioning that it was all just for the charade of a polite introduction to a question that was about to come up soon. Wade didn’t have to bother so much, was he like this to all of his lovers? Peter shrugged this unpleasant thought for later and tried again. “You keep saying I don’t listen to you, but apparently you have problems with paying attention yourself. I told you that I had a great time and I don’t know how you could possibly have made it any better. I’m not as picky as you think I am, stop worrying, really.”

“It’s not that I think you’re picky, just… shit, baby, if you just said that it was your first date ever I would have made it so much more memorable!” 

“But it was.” Peter’s voice sounded small again, this time his nervousness more gentle, with the subtle hints of affection he felt towards the man. He wished the urge to reassure and please the merc wasn’t so strong, but the truth was, he couldn’t resist it. Everything in him screamed that he should do anything possible to make Wade content, so the man wouldn’t leave him yet. 

“I’m glad you liked it darling, but I assure you that I would have made it ten times better if you just said a word. Fuck, why have so much money if I can’t spend them on a sweetheart like you? I would, I don’t know, rent all the tables in one of those stupid exclusive restaurants so no one would bother us and take you to the London Eye and buy you nice flowers and… I don’t know, just, do  _ better _ .”

“Wade,” Peter smiled softly to his ceiling. “There’s no London Eye in  _ New York. _ ”

“Of course not, that’s why we would also rent a plane.”

“ _ Wade. _ ” Peter felt like he needed to end this ridiculousness, even if it made his heart warm. “It was just a date. Not a proposal. I had a great time and I wouldn’t change a single thing, okay? I don’t  _ need _ all the fuss, really, try to get that finally.”

“Maybe you don’t  _ need _ it, but you absolutely  _ deserve _ it baby boy. Yellow and White are right, when a cutie like you agrees to date an uggo like me, the last thing I can do to compensate for it is treat you like the precious thing you are. Because it’s not like my personality is going to do it, hell no, I’m aware.” Deadpool sounded playful and absolutely serious at the same time, and Peter’s poor heart was again a hair’s breadth away from jumping out of his chest.

Wade couldn’t say shit like this, it wasn’t fair. He was generous and Peter got that, but acting like he was about to woo Peter was just… too much for the boy to handle. He needed to encourage the merc to finally ask him about the fuck he wanted from Peter, to just go for it without walking around the topic on his tiptoes, so that they both could finally end this travesty. 

And why was he underestimating himself so much? Surely he had to know he was handsome and in good, mouth-watering shape, right? Like, hands down, he had the best silhouette Peter ever saw. And apart from that, he was the sweetest guy Peter ever met too. Thinking about Peter's comfort with food, with his comfort with his scars, with his comfort during their gameplay in arcade.

It was heart wrenching for Peter on so many levels, because during these hours they spent together they almost acted like a couple. And Peter didn’t understand why Wade would want that. Why would he want to pretend to want a relationship? Why would he be so different from all those guys before, when it was him people feared, not them. When it was him who Peter heard so many bad things about, and was warned so many times of. And the man turned out to be the most caring of all of the bastards before, even if linked with them by one purpose. Because he acted like a dream boyfriend when in reality it was all about to end soon.

And what was he acting for, Peter? For himself, to just feel better? It didn’t make any sense but still it felt too good to call him out about it. Peter wanted this feeling to last, this sweet behaviour to last, and the knowledge that their time was counted only improved the urge. If the man wanted to act all honeymoon and shit before they parted ways after the night they spent together, why shouldn’t Peter let him? If Wade fucked as sweet as he talked, it’s gonna be an unforgettable memory Peter will cherish for the rest of his days.

“I… Thank you, but…” Peter’s tongue felt heavy, and he couldn’t think of anything smart to say at Wade’s statement. Of course, he was thankful for the nice words but they also made him sad and he couldn’t hide it completely.

“Hey, it’s okay, don’t say anything sweetheart, you don’t have to. I don’t want to make you more uncomfortable than I already did okay? I was questioning you about this first date like a total asshole, shit, I’m sorry.” Again, why was he apologizing? Oh, how Peter just wanted it all to clarify somehow! But the only way to do this was to end this relationship, and Peter didn’t like that thought at all. But then the stress would finally be over, wouldn’t it? So it was up to him how he was gonna remember this relationship.

“I’m good, stop apologizing to me, Christ.” Peter’s confident side came up to the light, as he decided that the game of a cat and a mouse had to end. “You want this date? I’m free Tuesday’s evening, so two days from now. Same spot as the last time, seven pm, don’t be late.” He hung up with a loud beating heart, scared shitless. 

Being bossy like that with a mercenary of Wade’s range? When had Peter lost the last scraps of his self preservation? Besides being absolutely reckless, it was also simply rude to just announce the place and time of the date without consulting it before with a partner! Oh god, Peter was raised better than this. What would his fathers say? Well, bad choice of words, they would lose it just at the identity of Peter’s companion, their son’s rudeness would be the least of their concerns.

Just when he was ready to start cursing himself and his behaviour again, the phone in his hand made a sound, which made Peter almost jump out of his skin as he wasn’t expecting it at all. He hesitantly unlocked it and opened the text he received from Deadpool.

**16:11**

**just wanted to tell ya that u r hot when bossy <33333 also i hope that this call meant i can spam u again B))**

Peter snorted, covering his eyes with his hand. Of course Wade didn’t care at all about Peter’s manners, it was so predictable. 

He waited for a moment, then typed back. 

**16:13**

**Always a sweet talker.**

**Yes, you can text me if you want. :)**

How could he deny himself the joy from Wade’s silly messages, when he was about to get them only for the next forty eight hours anyway? 

Peter turned off his phone and tossed it next to him on the blanket, ignoring the notification of another message. He needed to calm down a little now, rethink some things and definitely decide what to do now. Call Shuri again? She was probably in Wakanda and didn’t have time for Peter’s confusing games. Tell his friends…? No, nope, definitely not,  _ very bad idea _ . They wouldn’t leave it at that, and would want a lot of explanations about Peter’s date identity. Which the boy just couldn’t give them. 

So it was decided. This time he’ll go without any escort. Not the smartest move ever but… he didn’t believe that the man would do him any harm. There was something in the way he acted and talked to Peter, the way he laughed and called him all of those pet names that told the boy to just relax around him. And maybe he was being extremely stupid and naive. But someone who refused to touch him when he was drunk and bothered enough to take him on a date unlocked the layers of trust Peter didn’t know existed in him. And truth be told, during their first meeting Peter also didn’t really need Shuri’s backup to feel safe, but he was doing it for his parents. Now though, it was for himself. The end he wanted. The closure. The time for only Wade and him. 

Peter smiled sadly to himself, rubbing his temples. He’s going to make this night worthy. For Wade too, so he could look back and remember Peter for it, not for the nonsense he babbled when he was nervous, and not for the awkward ghosting after their first date.

***

This time, Peter walked with confidence. He still could feel how tense his muscles were, but he was too focused and determined to let that intimidate him. This time he’ll let Wade know just how okay his touch and presence was. This time the man wouldn’t have to think twice.

Peter took only one, but very long shower after his classes, wore his best lace panties and styled his hair into messy curls. He dressed up in his famous Strawberry Dress, which wasn’t accidental. It all started with that outfit and it was also gonna end with it. Perfectly closed chapter, almost like in the movies. Hopefully he won’t cry every time he wears that dress later.

Well, okay maybe it wasn’t such a brilliant idea. Fuck.

Peter forced himself to calm down, throwing those thoughts into the most dusty corner of his mind. He didn’t have time for this, for his insecurities to take the lead in his actions, he needed his brain clear of them. He turned around the corner and almost smashed his nose on a person that was leaning on the wall just a step away. 

A person who appeared to be Deadpool, of course. Because Peter just had to make a fool of himself when he really wanted to present in the best light possible. 

He swayed backward dangerously, but Wade’s gentle hand was right there, placed on his middle back to steady him.

“Baby boy! Uh, sorry for scaring you, was expecting you to come from this direction and decided that I was gonna just stand closer then. Well, not that I was stalking you or anything, just, your home is that way and last time you came from there too and I really wanted to show you that I’m not late and okay maybe I’ll stop talking now, uh, anyway, this is for you.” Deadpool leaned a little to still the slightly tilted Peter, who was inches from bending over Wade’s palm. 

The boy looked up at the whites of Deadpool’s eyes, mouth open. And there was his confidence, screwed completely.

His stare flicked quickly to the hand the man was holding on the edge of Peter’s line of sight, where he had a big red rose, which mixed with the scent that surrounded Wade, blood, gunpowder and leather. The one that Peter missed so much without even noticing.

“Oh. Thank you, you didn’t have to.” Peter recognized the warmth of blush that was spreading on his cheek bones, as Wade released him but still stood close enough that when Peter took the flower and smelled it, he still mostly felt Wade. 

And he was absolutely loving it. 

“Nope, I definitely did! Can’t believe last time I didn’t get you anything, but I was like, shitting myself from excitement and I didn’t have the head for it. Of course none of those fuckers up there,” he tapped his forehead, “didn’t even say one word because when it comes to really important things, they’re just useless. Now they’re screaming at me that I’m a liar and that’s not true but what do you think assholes, who’s he gonna believe? Yeah exactly.”

Peter used the flower to half cover his smile, as he glanced at the man from under his lashes. This time Deadpool’s hoodie was black and red, a little more fitting than the last time, featuring his pecs. Peter decided that it was a right thing to go on.

“You look good,” he said, pinching the flower in his grip and biting his lip slightly.

“Who, me?” Deadpool really looked around to see if anyone else stood near them, which was just ridiculous. “Baby, you should see yourself! Wearing that dress again, eh? Damn, I remember the first time I saw you, thought I just rescued the personification of my wettest dreams, really. Ain’t no one has the rights to look  _ that _ pretty.”

Peter grinned widely, blushing more.

“I’d said that I forgot how you like to sugarcoat but that would be a lie since you almost wrote the poems to my butt in texts you were sending me for the past two days.” Peter used his free hand to grab Wade’s arm just like he did last time, enjoying the hardness of muscles under his fingers, the rose snagging on the strap of his purse. Wade immediately started walking, leading them in the direction only he knew, almost like he waited for it, still talking.

“Well, in my defense, I had your permission to do it, sooo…”

“I didn’t say I was complaining about this!” Peter flashed him a smile where his dimples were visible, delighted in the sound of the breathy exhale he received. 

“Uh, that’s good. Wouldn’t want to force myself on you.” Wade sounded serious even if his voice was a little raspy. And there was another chance for Peter.

“You would never. Really.” The boy squeezed Deadpool’s arm to emphasise his words, but the man shook his head.

“Yeah, don’t say shit you don’t mean baby.” He patted Peter’s hand fondly, walking them into Central Park, where the number of people was so small Peter almost got distracted by wondering where they all went.

“Huh?” He tilted his head to look at the merc, brows furrowed, watching not to trip over his own feet. “What are you talking about Wade, I thought I told you that I too find you attractive. That means, I also don’t mind your comments or anything at this point.”

Wade halted, automatically making Peter stop too. The man covered his eyes with his gloved hand, sighing loudly.

“Okay, I need a moment. Can’t take that shit when you’re talking like that, looking all doe eyed and cute, it physically pains me.” He rubbed his forehead, oblivious to Peter’s puzzled expression. Then he sighed again and turned to Peter a little, so that the boy had to noticeably raise his head to look him in the eyes because of the small distance between them. “Listen, sweetums. Maybe now you think you wouldn’t mind anything but let me tell you,  _ don’t minding something _ and  _ enthusiastic consent _ are two, very different things. So please, don’t confuse them and the feelings that are accompanying them, okay cutie pie?” He poked at Peter’s nose gently, which made the boy cross eyed for a second, as he wrinkled his nostrils and swatted Wade’s hand away.

“I think I’m old enough to know the difference, don’t you think?” Peter suddenly got irritated, and he couldn’t even say why. There was something in the air, in the way Wade was both thirsting over him but keeping a distance, shit-talking about himself and acting like it was impossible to really be interested in him that drove Peter crazy. What the hell was the man up to? Was he joking after all?

“Weasel’s pants, I didn’t mean to mansplain it to you Peter, fuck, I’m sorry.” Wade took a step back and it somehow only riled Peter more. Why was he constantly backing off when Peter only as much as grimaced? He wasn’t made of glass, god damn it!

“I’m not sure if you can do this when we’re both men, it kind of doesn't make sense now,” pouted Peter, looking down as he kicked at the pavement with his shoe. Why was this guy so confusing?

“I don’t know just… I’m sorry okay? I’m not trying to tell you how you’re supposed to feel or anything just… I still feel like you’re mistaking me for someone else and I’m waiting for the realization to kick in.” Wade spread his arms, angry, then cringed like he wanted to hide his head between his raised shoulders. “Fuck, I knew this was such a bad idea, I knew I was gonna fuck it up somehow, it’s always like this when I open my mouth, Yellow and White were right, I should have fucking let go and…”

“Hey!” Peter decided that he had enough, and reached with his hands to grab Wade’s head and forced him to look at Peter. Physical contact was always the first step in making your point, when it was important. “Yellow and White don’t know shit, I told you that.” He looked at the man's mask seriously, wanting the mercenary to finally understand. “The whole point is, that you should listen to  _ me _ and what  _ I’m _ saying, not  _ them _ . Because I’m the one who’s here with you and I’m telling you loud and clear that I don’t mind the comments, the contact, anything. Which in my case, is an enthusiastic consent or whatever the hell you want. Is that understandable enough?”

Peter’s heart was racing like he just ran the marathon, and he was desperately trying to not let this appear on his face.

Enthusiastic consent. What the hell was that? Peter always just let people touch him, and people would let him touch them without much fuss without asking, that’s how it worked. He was perfectly fine with handling more uncomfortable situations or mild pain, usually just gritting his teeth and waiting for the real fun to begin. If it didn’t, well, then he just had worse humor after and wasn’t satisfied, but less hurt when his partner left him. 

You see, no one really cared about enthusiasm with Peter. Other guys were satisfied with just an affirmation, sometimes a little resigned, sometimes not even said. They usually just came expecting for Peter to be ready, to be willing, and he didn’t try to mislead them, simply agreeing for anything they wanted and praying that it would be a time worth spending. God, it was pathetic, he knew that. But at the same time, he couldn’t stop doing it over and over, even if sometimes he felt ashamed and wished that he could talk about it with his friends. But he never did.

And now, he couldn’t stop the aggression that was really caused by panic when Wade mentioned that there were differences in the way you could agree on something. He was scared because he didn’t want the man to dig into that part of himself he managed to bury a long time ago. The one that had hope.

Peter felt Wade’s palms wandering up his forearms, and that caused a shiver to run through his exposed skin, until the man covered Peter’s fingers on his cheeks with his own.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, twisting his head in the boy’s embrace, rubbing his jaw on the soft skin like a dog demanding pets. Peter was almost sure he was closing his eyes and wished he would take off this stupid mask to see. “I’m a full of issues motherfucker who really needs to listen more, I know okay? And I’m trying, I swear I am.”

Peter’s breath hitched from the amount of emotions, but he tried to keep his mind clear and not let himself fall apart in front of the man. He used his thumb to stroke Wade’s masked chin lightly.

“That’s okay. Really, I appreciate your efforts, just… if you’re not sure about something, ask  _ me _ first, okay? And not them. That’s all.” He tangled their fingers together and squeezed them, making Wade sigh.

“I will, scouts honor. Now, do you still want to continue or…?”

“Sure I do.” Peter smiled more easily, glad they averted the crisis. This time instead of grabbing Wade’s arm, he just let their linked hands stay like that, as he tugged them in the direction they were previously heading. “And don’t lie to me like that, I know there’s no way you could have been a scout.”

Deadpool cackled loudly, making a few people turn their heads in their direction, but they looked away almost as fast after seeing the person who made the sound.

“Oh baby,  _ but I was _ .” His mask was stretched by the enormous grin that Peter really, really wanted to see, but couldn’t because of the stupid material covering it. He knew without asking that Wade didn’t want to remove it yet and he tried to respect it, not letting himself feel too disappointed. “I mean, they kicked me after a week maybe, but it still counts.”

It was Peter’s turn to laugh, and he covered his mouth to not bother the poor pedestrians more than they actually did. 

“I knew it.” He giggled, shaking his head. “You like trouble too much to fit into an organisation like that.”

“Well, excuse me, I also made a career as a soldier at one time so I know what discipline is, thank you very much. Maybe I just don’t like eating cookies and shitting in the forest, huh?” Peter tried to not think too much about those amazing shoulders squeezed in the uniform.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not what scouts do, Wade.”

“Ha, you would be surprised. That’s why they kicked me. I think. They got mad when I said that their biscuits taste like shit but they could also have been pissed off about the booth with uniforms that I accidentally set on fire.”

“Accidentally?!” Peter sputtered, half shocked and half impressed. 

“What can I say baby boy, I was a messy kid.” The man only shrugged again, and Peter wished he could see his smile on full display, which shape he noticed through the mask.

“Oh, I can imagine, trust me.” He shook his head, looking at the merc fondly. 

“Haven’t changed much since then, eh?” Deadpool shrugged, then suddenly he snapped his fingers, pulling Peter to the left, to the food booth standing a few feet away from the main path. “Anyhoo, remember when I asked you yesterday if you had ever been to Europe? And then we started talking about Italy and how fucking great pasta is?”

“Of course I do,” mumbled Peter, eyeing the booth in front of them, decorated in green, white and red stripes. Yeah, the boy didn’t need to be a Sherlock Holmes to guess what Wade planned.

“Great, so, here’s this spot managed by my good friend Gian, and let me tell you baby, he’s making the best fucking pasta you’ll ever eat, hands down. It may not be a restaurant with three freaking Michelin stars, but since you said you don’t really care about places like that I’m actually going to _ listen _ and present you this world given miracle.” The merc jumped once with excitement as they came closer to the booth, where the bored looking italian man was tapping his fingers on the narrow counter.

“Gian my friend !  _ Come stai _ ?” Wade spread his shoulders like he wanted to hug the guy despite the wall between them. Gian immediately brightened, and started talking really fast in Italian, gesticulating animatedly. Peter had only a few classes with that lang, because his parents and aunt Tasha insisted that he should know at least the most basic phrases in almost every language that existed. They said that you never know what could happen and pushed him to learn how to ask for help or introduce himself.

Now he could only understand that Wade asked Gian how he had been, and only a few words the guy had said, something about pasta, killing, and unicorns? Yeah, Peter hadn’t had an occasion to train his language skills for a little bit and it was painfully obvious. 

“No way, really?” Wade raised his brows to his forehead, absorbed by the guy’s story. “Can’t fucking believe I missed this! Gonna pop in more, I swear it’s a shame I didn’t have time lately to do so, I will make it up to you man, pinky promise.” Deadpool put his hand on his heart, and Gian only shook his head, mumbling a few more words in Italian. Then he finally turned to Peter, noticing the boy’s presence and opening his eyes widely, as he looked him up and down. 

Peter shifted from foot to foot, a little embarrassed. And there he was the moment he absolutely dreaded, the one where he meets a new person and they try and fail to not look shocked at the way he was dressed. However he was everything but bad manners, so he smiled politely and nodded to the man.

“Hello Mr Gian,  _ piacere di conoscerti, _ ” he greeted the guy, probably horribly corrupting the accent, but being proud of himself anyway. A simple “nice to meet you” wasn’t maybe the level of Wade’s abilities to communicate, but he knew from experience that people across the world liked and appreciated when you made an effort to talk to them in their native language. 

The guy suddenly beamed, his smile splitting his face in half, and he started speaking even faster, looking at Wade and gesturing between him and Peter. Which… wasn’t the reaction Peter expected. He didn’t look disgusted by Peter’s outfit at all, and just that small thing made Peter decide that he was definitely gonna visit Gian again.

Deadpool in the meantime, straightened abruptly, chuckling lightly and scratching the back of his masked head.

“Yeah man, I was surprised too, but he’s here of his own free will I swear. And I have no idea how I got so lucky but hey, if you want to help me keep him you can serve us your special, how about that?” Wade leaned on the counter and lowered his tone conspiratorially, receiving a grin from the Italian, who patted his arm and turned around to the pots he had on the other side of the booth. 

Peter raised his brows.

“Uhm, are you gonna translate for me or do I have to use google or something?” He coughed pointedly and pulled at Wade’s hand, wrinkling his nose.

“What? Oh, huh, sorry baby.” Deadpool looked back at him, a little sheepish. “It wasn’t anything important, really. You know, just a few questions about how someone so gorgeous like you ended up with someone like me, Gian is probably already in love with you so I have to make sure to keep you close.” Wade winked at him and laughed, waving his hand. “Though I’m not sure if you’re not gonna run away with him after you taste his  _ fettuccine alla papalina _ . Who wouldn’t want a handsome italian man who can cook for you? I mean, I can cook too, but not like this, nuh-uh, and I’m canadian sooo.” Wade shrugged.

Peter’s heart beat faster again, and the boy needed to physically shake his head slightly, to snap out of this weirdly stunned state of mind Wade’s words were putting him into.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know that some people could find him attractive (to a certain point when they suddenly didn’t), but the way Wade was talking about it like it was something obvious and like he was both proud of it and worried because that meant that Peter could any second leave him for someone else… It sounded a little too familiar. It sounded a little too much like they were a couple or something, and Peter’s poor heart was just unprepared for it at all.

“You think a canadian is less worthy than an italian?” He desperately tried to sound playfully, to escape the tightness of his throat. 

“I think that his skills are just irresistible at this point, you’ll know in a minute.” 

“Even if,” Peter leaned in and looked at Wade seriously, “You have way better butt.”

Deadpool roared with laughter and Peter breathed with relief, as he managed to shut his bad mood down again before it got to him. He felt his cheeks growing warm as Gian turned to them with a little puzzled expression, searching for the reason for Wade's amusement. 

“ _ Buon appetito _ ,” he laid on the counter two rectangular shaped boxes, with the tasty looking pasta and cutlery inside.

“ _ Grazie _ Gian, you’re the best.” Deadpool laid a banknote next to the dishes, still giggling. He and Peter both took their portions and left, saying goodbye to the man who waved behind them and yelled something Peter couldn’t understand and Wade didn’t bother to translate.

“Well, let’s find a nice secluded bench then, shall we?” Wade again led them in in a direction only he knew and Peter followed, watching not to drop his food.

“I mean, I don’t mind your face, you know that.” Peter shrugged, catching up with the mercenary's long steps. “So look only for your comfort, okay? Because I’m perfectly fine eating with you absolutely everywhere.”

“Uh,” Wade slowed down, looking a little off balance. “I think I still don’t really get that one? I mean, now I’m just searching for somewhere we could eat without everyone watching like some freaking vultures, it’s kind of annoying when you’re trying to be all romantic and shit. Not that it’s not annoying  _ always _ , but now especially. I also wouldn’t mind just celebrating the moment when I’m pulling up my mask and you’re going all red and cute. That would be really helpful for me to believe it’s actually happening and I’d like to avoid shooting the bastard who would interrupt us then”

“I am  _ not _ going red when you’re taking off your mask!” Shrieked Peter, blushing furiously, what really didn’t help his statement.

“Yeah, not even a little” the irony in Wade’s voice was mixed with fondness. 

They walked a full yard more bantering, when the merc decided that it was away enough. In their line of sight was only one bench, situated under huge oak, and the only person they could see was some old lady feeding the pigeons, barely in the reach of hearing. 

“Okay, now eat Petey before it’s gonna get cold, though it would still taste amazing, the magic is in the temperature, I know that from the autopsy.” Wade sat down on the bench and removed the paper lid from his box, reaching for Peter’s too to throw them both into the bin next to them. Then he pulled up his mask, again, over the bridge of his nose, causing Peter’s mind to short circuit for a moment. 

Because there it was. That glorious jaw and wolfish smile he missed so much, the one Peter wanted to kiss off the man’s face. 

Such dangerous territory.

“No blushing, yeah, not at all.” Wade sent him shit eating grin but Peter could forgive him easily in that moment, too mesmerized and thrilled by the possibility to finally see even a little bit of Wade’s skin. Peter stuck his tongue out.

“Shut up,” he murmured, trying to focus back on his portion and failing miserably, as he sneaked a peak almost immediately after, not being able to resist the urge to  _ observe _ . Such a prosaic activity, eating. Yet he couldn’t stop looking at how Wade’s mouth moved around the fork, how full his cheeks looked as he chewed, how his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. 

“Baby, you’re flattering me but you haven’t eaten even one bite and I just can’t let Gian’s mastery get wasted.”

Peter’s face was probably the colour of the rose Wade gave him, but he still looked the merc in the eyes with his brows raised, like he didn’t know what the man was talking about, and he put the food in his mouth ontentantiously.

And okay, wow, Wade wasn’t overreacting. It was fucking  _ amazing _ . 

“Ohmygod,” Peter moaned with his mouth full, closing his eyes and munching the bite slowly. “I think I’m experiencing something religious now.”

“Ugh, yeah me too.” Deadpool coughed into his fist and murmured something too quiet for Peter to understand. 

The boy almost forgot he was supposed to stare at Wade, savouring the moment when he was without his mask (well, partially), too absorbed by the food he started to bolt down. When he had eaten it up entirely he suddenly remembered that he was raised with  _ some _ manners, but when he looked up guiltily, he only saw Deadpool’s smirk, stretching those sinful lips.

“Now I’m starting to believe that you could have actually beat me in competitive eating if you only worked on your technique a little,” he tried and failed to sound serious, and Peter showed him his middle finger only making Wade giggle at him more. He wasn’t even really annoyed, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere between them and watching the merc finishing his own portion.

“Don’t think I forgot that you paid for it,” said Peter when the merc was wiping away his mouth with a napkin, throwing away the used boxes. “That’s just unfair at this point, this time I was the one who asked you out.”

“Yeah, don’t think I’m gonna let you pay anyway. I know that you mentioned something about being rich when we first met but pardon me, I have a tendency to doubt the words of college students when it comes to money.” Wade raised his brow.

“But that’s true! Well, uh, kind of? I mean, I have like… rich parents? And okay, maybe I don’t have access to the money directly because I chose that for myself, but it would only need one word to transfer some of it to my account. They’re overprotective as hell, you have no idea how long I had to fight with them so they would let me live on my own. I still need to regularly call them and inform them if my taxes are paid and all that shit.” He rolled the material of the dress between his fingers, looking down at it. 

He didn’t mean to overshare personal information, but again, his self control was just a distant dream at this point. It was hard to admit but he really felt good around Wade, to the point when he didn’t constantly watch his mouth when talking about family, friends or just his life. Of course, not to the point that he would give away his parents or friends identities, but still. Damn it, he even texted with Wade about his favourites kinds of pasta which was absolutely silly and stupid and yet for him felt weirdly intimate. Is Wade going to remember it? After all, after today? Or was it just small talk for him, just a way to amuse himself when he was bored?

Whatever his motives were, Peter knew he was going to miss it. And he hated himself for it.

“Wait, for real?” The boy raised his head to look at Wade who eyed him up and down, mouth slightly parted. “Don’t get me wrong or anything baby but… you just, I don’t know, don’t look like someone who has rich dads, that’s all.”

Peter shrugged and smiled lightly, celebrating quietly the fact that although they both finished eating, Deadpool still didn’t pull his mask down.

“Thanks, I think? I mean, you still gotta let me pay you back for our meal, rich parents or not.”

“Ha, I don’t think so.” Deadpool bopped him on the nose making him Peter wrinkle it.

“Wade!” He wasn’t sure why he insisted, but it just seemed like a right thing to do. Like this, when Wade does leave him, he won’t feel like he owes him anything.

“Let’s make a deal” Wade suddenly straightened on his seat, his smirk dangerous and  _ hot _ , distracting Peter a little. “We’re racing to the end of this alley. The winner pays for today.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how bets are supposed to wo–” before Peter was able to end the sentence, Wade sprang into action, bolting off the bench and running up the lane. “Hey! You fucking cheater!” The boy screamed after him but loud laughter was the only response he received.

Peter knew that he had no chances now, and angrily collected his purse, walking after Wade, murmuring curses under his breath. The man was waiting for him, bouncing in place and cheering for Peter, acting like the boy was actually taking part in his stupid competition.

“That wasn’t fair and you know it.” Peter punched him lightly in the bicep, when he finally made it to him.

“Well,  _ duh _ .” Wade reached for Peter's hand and when the boy didn’t take it away, he quickly placed a kiss on it. “Couldn’t let you pay baby, nuh-uh.”

“You were just afraid of losing,” huffed Peter, ignoring his cheeks turning scarlet. For the first time he actually felt Wade’s skin on his own. He shuddered when the man’s lips gently scratched his knuckles. He would probably give all his money in that moment to feel those butterfly kisses on the other parts of his body, covering every inch of him.

“Exactly, you looked through me.” Wade was obviously amused by this idea and Peter only rolled his eyes, ignoring his rapidly beating heart and tugging Wade deeper into the park. 

They didn’t walk even a few steps when they suddenly heard music, somewhere to the left. 

“Is that…” Peter furrowed his brows, tilting his head, “...saxophone? Someone’s playing saxophone here?” Wade’s excited nod only confirmed his suspicion.

“Yes, I hear that too! Let’s check it out!” He announced enthusiastically, and Peter really had no power to refuse him anything. 

“Sure, why not?”

They wandered a few alleys further, until they finally saw two guys standing in the middle of the lane, one of them with saxophone and the other on a keyboard and microphone, with a loudspeaker next to them. A few people were sending them curious glances, a man put a dollar in the case of the instrument that was open before them. 

“They’re playing  _ Careless Whisper _ ! I love that song!” Wade turned to Peter, his smile so wide the boy felt his knees going weak. Wade leaned a little, “Wanna dance with me, Petey?”

And this time Peter was perfectly sober. And they were in public, the setting sun leaving less privacy than stroboscopic lights, faces of the people walking past still recognizable. He bit his lip.

“Okay,” was all he said, before Wade turned him in his arms, putting one of his big palms on the boy’s waist, and pulling up the other one still linked with Peter’s. Instinctively, the boy put his fingers on Deadpool’s shoulder, and they swayed slowly, to the rhythm of the performed cover.

Peter’s eyes were almost crossing from the need to look both at Wade’s pecs from this close up and on his lips, really near to his own. After a quick debate with himself, he decided that it was less likely for him to see this stunning smile again, and he let his head lift up. The angle was kind of awkward and maybe not the most comfortable one, but he wasn’t complaining. The man winked down at him and grinned happily, spinning Peter in the next second which made them receive a few whistles. His dress was flapping in the light wind.

Peter threw his head back completely and laughed loudly, relishing in the moment of pure joy, of dancing with the most dangerous mercenary in the world under the open sky and being applauded for it by a bunch of strangers. It all felt so unreal he wanted to pinch himself.

The song was coming to the end and Wade made Peter do three spins in one go before he stopped him, leaning the boy on one side in a very spectacular gesture. Peter, with his body curved like this was almost out of breath, but the cheers those random New Yorkers gave them were totally worth it. He giggled when Wade helped him stand up and he let his forehead rest on Wade’s collarbone for a second, waiting for their surroundings to stop whirling. 

“Where did you learn to dance like that?” Peter murmured into the material of the man’s hoodie, and felt the vibration of Wade’s soft chuckle on his own cheek. The world smelled like leather, blood and gunpowder.

“I’m not the one to kiss and tell baby boy.” The man squeezed his waist lightly for the last time and Peter regretfully took a step back from the warmth of his body. Then, there was a wad of cash shoved in his face. “Go give them that, I can’t do it myself because they would probably start screaming, but they really earned the tip tonight.”

“Yeah, the tip.” Peter looked at the thick wad with raised brows, but the corners of his mouth were still twitching. “More like a whole payment.”

Wade only shrugged, and the boy walked over to the musicians that were looking at him with wider eyes with every step he took. Well, they probably thought that he was a girl from that distance, but that was okay, Peter didn’t mind their surprise as long as they weren’t rude. Besides, it was absolutely ridiculous to watch their faces as he put the money down. He wished he could have taken a photo.

He quickly came back to Wade and they took a path leading them in to right, leaving behind the slowly fading sounds of another song being played. It was getting dark really fast, a few lanterns along the way switching on. Normally, Peter would never pick this road after sunset, fed too many stories of his friends rescuing people from thugs lurking in the shadows and waiting for the right person to jump. But here, with Wade by his side, he wasn’t scared at all and was enjoying the crisp air that left goosebumps on his arms.

It wasn’t accidental that he picked the late hour of their date instead of an earlier one, not that long after his classes and when they could spend more time together. He was well aware of the growing darkness and was hoping that it would set the right mood. Last time Wade ended their date when they walked outside the arcade and the night was slowly pulling in, this time Peter was hoping for a similar reaction. He didn’t want a long date, he wanted to just encourage the man and then have this relationship closed.

Now he was really, really regretting it.

Just a dance. Just a simple dance and yet Peter was praying for the sun to rise again so they could continue, so they could have just a little more time, so he could feel this wild happiness a bit more. Peter was regretting his decisions from before and had an unpleasant feeling that he was repeating the scenario from the first date.

He kind of hated himself for another moment of weakness. It wasn’t supposed to go like that.

“Hey, you have classes tomorrow?” Wade interrupted his train of thought and Peter just nodded, his throat tight. He hated how fast his mood was switching lately. “Okay, I’ll walk you home then.”

Again. This gentleman acts, this sweetness. Was he really oblivious to what it was doing to Peter? Or maybe, the ugly side of Peter whispered to him, maybe he was perfectly aware and it all was only turning him on? Maybe he liked to spoil his lovers and give them false hope only to crush it spectacularly later?

The rose attached to Peter’s purse suddenly started to feel heavy.

_ No. _ Peter nearly snarled at himself.  _ No, he’s not like that. He just wanted to hear clear consent and he’s nice in general, he probably just wants it all to go smooth, and that’s perfectly fine, really. _

“Petey, you okay baby? You look a little… distressed?” Wade’s careful voice snapped him out of his mind and Peter blinked quickly, trying to calm himself and leave the tears away. 

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine, sorry. I just… have a lot going on in college and it makes me nervous and I get lost in thoughts sometimes. I’m sorry, didn’t mean to be rude or anything…” College, college, college, always this fucking college as an excuse! Peter was really starting to repeat himself. And the worst thing is, he had literally no problems at all there, his professors only praised him for his work and were all nice to him, he felt horrible for making them look like this.

“Nope, don’t apologize sweetums, you did nothing wrong.” Wade squeezed his hand and Peter shook his head firmly.

“But I did. I don’t want you to feel like I’m not paying you enough attention.” He looked at Wade seriously and saw the man smiling softly. 

“You’re sweet, but I really understand the situation baby, and I don’t feel blown off even a little bit. Now come one, let’s get ya to your apartment so you can have a second date with your textbooks like the nerdy student you are.” 

Peter glared at him, which of course only made the man giggle.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” mumbled Peter, which didn’t really help in stopping Wade from laughing. 

Wade was good at pretending that this date was really going to end like this, but Peter heard how suggestive and playful his tone was. So he didn’t really mean it. Good. This time it was going to end like it should have in the first place.

This time Peter’s concerns will end. 

God, he was doing this again! Instead of being excited about a good fuck and the chance to finally touch that wonderfully ripped body, he was moping and trying to hide it. What the hell was wrong with him? Last time it went like he wanted, with Deadpool leaving him and not trying anything and how it ended? With him only wondering why the man did that and bitching so much that everyone had enough of him.

And now, it was solved. Now, the merc knew he had a green light. Peter will end this night and won't feel like a mistake of the universe, his friends will be happy that his old self is back, his aunt will be happy that he’ll focus on her lessons again, his fathers will be happy that he solved his  _ heart problems _ . Everyone’s going to be happy.

So why wasn’t he?

“Hey, we’re almost there.” Deadpool stopped his tale about yesterday’s visit in Weasel’s bar, where some dude was trying to challenge him to drinking game (which was obviously stupid since the merc’s healing factor was so strong he just  _ couldn’t  _ get drunk, what a dumbass guy), and turned his head slightly to look at Peter.

Ah, yes. Checking the waters, everyone did that. Some quicker, with just one glance, if Peter was alone and what he was wearing, some longer, searching if he was desperate enough and maybe their type. He just never was checked out after a date, and it felt weird, like something was off. But with Deadpool everything was a little bit unusual and strange so Peter guessed that it was okay.

“Yeah, sorry that it wasn’t longer, I don’t have as much time during the week and I needed to take care of college stuff first.” Peter shrugged, trying to sound casual.

“I don’t mind it, really, told you that every second you can spare me is special.” Those stupid words and that stupid grin, it shouldn’t have done mean so much to him! That was just unfair.

“Are you ever going to get bored of the compliments?” They gained entry to his block again and Peter turned to the man, laying his back on the wall of the building with playful expression and half lidded eyes. 

He could feel the stare on himself, saw the tip of Wade’s tongue touching his chapped lips. 

“If the compliments are from you?” His smile was all teeth and Peter shuddered. “Never.”

He leaned in, and Peter was sure that that was it, the moment when he was finally going to taste that mouth himself, but all of sudden he felt Wade’s fingers on his hand, tugging it up. Deadpool pulled Peter’s wrist up and then kissed his palm slowly, making the boy’s head spin from the sensation of touching his uncovered skin. Wade’s hot breath was tickling his sensitive nerves, his eyelids fluttering.

And then, he took a step back, releasing Peter’s hand. It was so surprising the boy swayed and reached behind to support himself on the rough wall.

“Well, that’s my time to go I guess. Thanks for the second date sweetie, send something when you get into your apartment!” He waved to the boy enthusiastically and walked away, with Peter so breathless and confused he couldn’t make a sound to stop him.

And he was gone. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank all the people leaving comments under this fic, I'm literally spending all my free time on writing and your feedback is priceless, really.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want to really thank my beta [Turnip ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimidTurnip/pseuds/TimidTurnip) and my cheer/gamma reader [Fredegund ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fredegund/pseuds/Fredegund) , love you both ❤️❤️❤️

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! This chapter might include attempts of non-con, nothing really heavy, don't worry, but be aware folks.

It should have been reassuring for Peter, that after all he was right about the man. That Wade was just misleading him, acting only to make Peter look like a fool for wanting something more. And Peter kept saying to himself that this “more” was sex and some clarification of this madness, of the feelings keeping him from sleeping, but he was completely lying. However, Peter was good at this and besides, he didn’t have enough energy to think about it now.

Because he was full of only incredible rage and sorrow. 

But not on Wade, never on Wade. How could he blame the guy? He was just acting like everyone eventually did and wasn’t the one to blame. Peter was responsible for all of this. He let those stupid dates happen, he let himself become more familiar with the man, he let himself (the biggest secret) have hope. Really, if he just weren’t so naive, none of this would have happened. He wouldn’t feel so tricked, when in fact, he got exactly what he should have expected. Someone would say that after some time everyone learns from their mistakes, but maybe Peter was just too stupid for that.

After being left for the second time, he was almost panting from fury. He went to his room, sent something stupid to Deadpool in fear that if he didn't, the guy would come to his house to make fun of him by faking concern. He shut off his phone completely, and after that he cried. Cried so loud he was worried some of his neighbours would come, but nothing like that happened, and he punched the pillows on his bed until his muscles ached. He was glad in that moment he didn't have super strength like Miles or Gwen, because he was sure he would break the whole bed into a pile of splinters, or maybe destroy the whole apartment. 

When he expended all of his energy completely, he just laid still watching the wall absentmindedly, while crying silently. He didn’t even change out from his dress, and then, lying on the mattress he suddenly felt so disgusted with himself. He immediately ripped the piece of cloth off himself and threw it in the corner of his bedroom. So he was right, and the stupid strawberries are always going to remind him of that perfect, traitorous man. Fucking Parker luck.

The worst thing was that some of Wade’s actions still didn’t make any sense, and Peter felt he was never gonna get any answers. Why spend money on him? Was he really so rich that he just didn’t care if in the name of some sick joke he spent some of his cash on a foolish boy? Or maybe he did this to feel better about himself? Maybe that was another one of those games Peter didn’t know the rules for? Was the man really able to act like this, to make up all of those stories about his adventures, to not touch Peter at that party only to have more time to make a plan for his big joke? 

Peter felt like he was going crazy. It didn’t make sense. It all didn’t make sense and by trying to think about it his head was starting to hurt. Or maybe that was because of the tears?

He felt like he was forgetting all the memories of what the man actually said and was replacing them with his own imagination, but he couldn’t stop. Was Wade really worried about how Peter was going to take his scarred skin or was he smiling then, ugly smirk on such a handsome face betraying his real intentions, with Peter too absorbed to notice? Would his mind really trick him like this or was he making up nonsense out of the blue, just to feel better? Just to keep saying to himself that the man in reality wasn’t that sweet, wasn’t that good, wasn’t that charming? He didn’t know anymore.

He couldn’t believe he really could have been that easily fooled. Was Deadpool’s body really that attractive that he just became bling to his blatant trickery? Were his stories really so interesting that it made him deaf to the obvious ridiculing?

First, he thought it was a pity date. Then, he was sure that the man was a gentleman and just wanted a clear “go ahead” from him. But in both cases, after both scenarios, nothing happened. And if after the first date he could have excused it somehow, after the second he had nothing. He had to accept the fact that he was tricked again. That the man just didn’t want him and was only keeping him around because it was amusing to see someone being so flustered about them, when they didn’t even touch him. Hell, there was a possibility that the merc was straight, and that only added fun to this whole charade.

Peter didn’t know anymore.

Why involve his friend then? Miles was starting to talk about the guy kind of nicely lately, and for what? Only for it all to turn out that he was right about him the whole time? That Peter really shouldn’t have given his name to him, only because he accidentally rescued the boy and looked nice in leather? Fuck, Peter was so stupid. 

Miles said that he still didn’t trust the guy. Gwen was staying away from him as much as she could. His fathers told him more than once that he was a dangerous man. 

And they were all right to do that. And Peter was still so, so painfully naive.

He should have been smarter. He wasn’t a child anymore, he shouldn’t act like one. Shouldn’t lose his head only because a handsome guy smiled at him a few times and called him pet names. 

But deep down he knew that it wasn’t about  _ what _ the guy was saying, but  _ how _ he was saying it. He was so convincing that he really made Peter believe in everything. And truth be told, after hours of crying and restless sleeping, he still had the problem of trying to stop believing in the man’s kindness and affection. But he just couldn’t justify it anymore. This time, he was obvious and honest in what he wanted, in his feelings about touching Wade. And the guy gave him a pretty clear answer with his actions. He didn’t want Peter. That was… understandable. Or more like, it would be, if the man first complimented Peter, then fucked him, then left him with an explanation like that. Then, everything would stay in harmony. But no, he decided to make Peter look like an even bigger fool and gave him at the end only one kiss on the hand without the material covering his mouth, like it was some kind of a souvenir for the boy to keep after him.

One mocking kiss.

The next day, Peter skipped his classes. He didn’t have energy to get up from the bed, and getting dressed and going to university sounded like a task so impossible he didn’t even bother to try. He barely remembered to turn on his phone. Trying to avoid looking at the texts from Deadpool’s number, he texted his friends a few reassuring messages that he just caught a light cold and decided to spend the day in bed to not make it worse. 

They were actually really pleased with his decision and said they were proud that he finally learned how important health was and wasn’t overloading himself unnecessarily. 

If they only knew…

But they didn’t, and after a few more wishes for him to get better, Peter could switch off the phone again, only to bury himself in the sheets for the rest of the day. The hours were passing, and he was just napping or lying down and thinking about nothing in particular, ignoring his rumbling stomach. 

Only when the clock struck midnight did he finally muster up enough energy to get up and go to the bathroom, where he finally emptied his bladder, and then splashed some cold water on his face to wake up a little. Looking at himself in the mirror wasn’t a pleasant experience. His eyes were puffy and red from crying, his lips swollen in the way that wasn’t nice at all. He was pale and visibly tired, despite lying in the bed for the whole day. And his hair? He got up without trying, deciding that he was going to brush it another time.

Still in the clothes from the previous day, which now included only his socks and panties as he took off the dress, he went to the kitchen. He should have some corn flakes somewhere here, he was sure of it…

He was about to start searching for the bowl, when a smell filled his nostrils and made him freeze. It was all in the air, there were roses in his kitchen.

He turned around, looking for the source of it, and then he saw it. His purse on the counter where he threw it yesterday in anger and then forgot all about, with the flower still attached to it. 

And okay, maybe he was overreacting as he yanked the rose brutally and then jumped to the window to open it and slung it in the night sky, but he didn’t care. That damn thing made the whole room stink with its smell and he was glad to watch it disappear into the dark. He lost his appetite.

After going back to bed, he had another session of crying, and that was the thing that put him to sleep. 

He skipped the next day too.

And of course his friends called. He was cutting all their incoming calls, half lying in the texts that his throat and head were hurting him too much, and that he just needed to rest. Miles and Gwen wanted to visit him during their patrols, but he firmly disapproved of this idea, telling them that he wanted to be alone. He knew that he was acting strange and that they were on the edge of saying screw it to his wishes and just checking on him anyway, but he couldn’t help himself. He didn’t want to see anyone.

When he was so famished that the pain from his stomach became unbearable, he finally decided to go back to the kitchen. Fortunately, the smell had disappeared, and he had a chance to eat some cereal, being careful not to eat too much, aware that he would vomit it all if he swallowed the portion too fast. God, what was the last thing he ate? Probably Gian’s pasta…

He decided to take a shower too. He was starting to stink and he felt the urge to wash off his skin and the memories of that evening. 

Standing under the warm spray of water, he managed to calm down a little. He hid his face in his hands and moaned in frustration, tugging on his wet hair. What on earth he was doing? Moping for two days, starving because of a flower in his apartment, not washing and ignoring the people he loved. For what, for a guy who didn’t care about him? They weren’t even a couple for Peter to act like this, damn it! He was pathetic. Utterly pathetic. 

And he had enough.

After the shower, which lasted for almost an hour because of how precisely Peter was washing every inch of his body, he got out of the bathroom. Then he came to his bedroom and started cleaning, changing the sheets and taking care of the laundry, even the Strawberry Dress. It was almost two am but he made himself a sandwich and sat in front of his laptop, checking his emails and messages from classmates who’d sent him some notes. He wasn’t maybe the most popular person there, but he always had all the notes and other students sometimes asked him to share them. Now they were returning the favour, and Peter had to admit that it was kind of sweet. Maybe there were still a few decent people after all?

When he finished catching up with the material, it was four in the morning. He closed his laptop and took a nap, only to wake up at six thirty and get ready for classes. He slept for almost two days, now he wanted to _ do something _ . 

He still didn’t open the texts from Wade. He could see that they were coming, a few each day, but Peter was still too distressed to read the obvious barbs he would find there. He was also considering simply blocking the number, but he wasn't strong enough to do that, deciding to just leave it there until he could find it in himself. 

Classes went smoothly. Peter felt a few curious glances his way, but he ignored them, focusing completely on the lectures and taking notes. Nobody asked how he was. Maybe it was better.

When he came back home again, the boy also called his friends finally, faking the happy tone and announcing to them that he felt better and offering to meet the next day. He could hear that they were reassured, glad for his better mood and he felt guilty that he had ghosted them so long. It wasn’t fair.

But then, he had a plan. A great one that was going to help him get out of this madness, this lethargy, and finally forget about Deadpool. The real closure, the one the man didn’t give him, so he decided to get it himself, in the old way. 

And that’s how he found himself in the nearest club he could find, in the second shortest dress he had, with some random guy holding him against a wall.

And everything was spinning.

The music was too loud, drilling into his skull, and his control over his own body was slipping from him. Did he really drink that much? Well, he could remember that he did, in fact, get maybe two more shots than usual at the beginning, but he wasn’t that lightheaded. He thought he could handle it.

Or maybe it was a little more as he tried to drown his own sadness and memories about Wade? It was really difficult to keep track of the numbers. 

The guy nipped at his neck harder than necessary, and Peter grimaced, turning his head.

It was fine, really. The man was big, nicely muscled and had a cool jacket. He slapped Peter’s butt and called him pretty, which also wasn’t that bad. Maybe he didn't offer him a drink and just straight away smashed him with his bulk into the cold wall, but that also was bearable. He wasn’t going to complain, that was what he wanted, right? And, okay, Peter saw in his life more ripped muscles but he wasn’t going to compare this dude, it would be rude, just rude, really. Well, he also knew hands that were gentler but those…

The guy’s fingers gripped his thigh in a way that made Peter feel uncomfortable. 

The man was still glued to his collarbone, almost biting him at this point, and Peter never was one against the more rough activities from his bed partners, but right now, he couldn’t stand the urge to move away. He tapped the guy lightly on one bicep, wanting to get his attention.

“Ugh… hey, could you maybe… ow, that hurt,” he tried to communicate with the man to take it easy, as they were still in public, and even if no one were paying them attention and Peter felt the alcohol swimming in his veins, he still had  _ some _ decency. 

But the guy only smiled at that, at Peter’s grunt of pain, and chuckled in a way that made the boy shudder, for not a pleasant reason at all. 

“Yeah, you like it like that, right? You little slut.” He only nipped on Peter’s skin more, and the boy wrinkled his nose, feeling like his skin was about to break. Not that long ago, he was called angel among many other sweet nicknames. Where did all of it go? Not like he didn’t enjoy good dirty talk, but he would probably enjoy it more if the words were whispered to him by a certain voice, raspy and low, with a deep chuckle at the end that would cause goosebumps on his skin…

God, but he was pathetic.

The hand on his thigh moved to his butt, grabbing it and squeezing, much too hard for it to be pleasurable. Peter never told anyone no, but right now, he felt like he didn’t have a choice, because this dude was clearly up for some heavy shit, and Peter wasn’t in the mood at all. He already could feel his skin breaking under the guy’s teeth. 

“Hey, no, could you… slow down, please…” He tried again, pushing the man’s pecs to get him off him so he could finally think more clearly, but the guy only pushed back, trapping him between his body and the rough textured wall.

“Slow down?” The guy snorted, raising his head up only so much to look at Peter mockingly. “How much? Maybe you want a date first, huh? Hold hands and shit?” He laughed more, pressing his crotch to Peter’s.

The boy froze, feeling a cold sweat break out on the inside of his palms.

What the hell. Why was everything reminding him of Wade, why was this guy rude like that? How the hell did he get involved in this mess? That doesn’t matter, now he just wanted to be out of here, out of this club, far away from this man. Screw his big plan, that was stupid, he was stupid, you can’t just replace a tear in your heart shaped like a man who doesn’t want you with another guy, that’s just how the world works. It was a stupid idea and Peter should know better than that, but he wasn’t in his right mind, as always.

God, if only the world would  _ stop spinning _ so he could gather his thoughts.

“No, I… I don’t want to, I… I really need to pee okay? Please, just… slow down, let me…” He mumbled, trying to think of anything good enough for an excuse to leave this man and just get the fuck out of here. Where was the exit? He could swear he saw the sign somewhere, but the guy was blocking his vision. Over his shoulder though, Peter could see the entry to the bathrooms and that gave him an idea. 

But the guy only flashed his teeth again and shrugged.

“Yeah, I don’t care. Pretty sure you’re just lying now, freak, and let me tell you, I don’t like it at all. You can’t give me permission only to take it away after a second, that’s not fair.” The man’s tone was so falsely sweet it made Peter want to puke. What was happening, what was wrong with this dude?

Peter suddenly felt really distressed, as the man came back to kneading his butt in his hand, seeming oblivious to how still Peter stood, and how shallow his breathing became. This wasn’t right, this hand wasn’t gentle enough, wasn’t warm enough, wasn’t big enough.  The way the man started forcing himself on Peter took his addled brain aback.  He couldn't process it, couldn't wrap his brain around the fact that this was even happening at al l .

Made him remember his outburst to Wade, when the man said that the fact that Peter didn’t mind something, wasn’t the same as wanting it. He acted like a child then, being all mad and worked up at the merc when he really didn’t want to say anything wrong or offensive. Peter just… never had a choice when it came to physical intimacy. He could just take what the guys offered or they would find someone else, someone less… weird. So it never was an enthusiastic consent for him, it was always just accepting his partner with all their kinks and oddities even if they made him uncomfortable sometimes, or not getting sex at all. And Peter knew that if he didn’t want to be a forever virgin, at some point he just had to grit his teeth and let them do to him what they wanted. Then, it all went fast, all his other experiences looking the same and him getting used to it, because first, he had no other choice, and second, he really started to believe that it was how it was meant to be for him. He learned not to complain about it. Of course, he theoretically knew that you were supposed to enjoy sex probably more than he was enjoying it but… He still didn’t have it in himself to say no to anyone, starved even for the touch that didn’t make him feel wanted.

Until now.

“Please just… can you let me go? I don’t… I’m sorry okay, I just don't feel like it, I…” He was starting to wriggle, but the guy suddenly slapped him, making his head turn from the impact of the blow. He heard the ringing in his ears and he blinked, trying to clear his vision from the tears and look around. No one paid them any mind, the music drowning out their words, the lack of light and people dancing everywhere hiding what was happening.

The man held him by the jaw, painfully digging his fingers in Peter’s cheeks. The one he just punched burned so much Peter’s eyes watered again.

“You’re not in charge, you hear me, whore? So quit bitching and take what I’m giving you, ungrateful piece of shit,” the guy spat the words, his annoyed and threatening tone making Peter’s heart go a mile a minute, throat tightening.

He really had to end up with a fucking abusive guy, didn’t he? He was so damn pathetic he couldn’t even pick someone who wouldn’t beat the shit out of him before agreeing to touch him, it was honestly just sad. 

If he only wasn’t so weak because of the damn alcohol! Natasha didn’t train with him for situations like this to happen, for fuck’s sake. But he just had to drink more than usual and fuck up his chances.

The man squeezed his face harder and Peter saw red from the pain, tears spilling on his face and the man’s fingers, making him smile wider. He made a move to lean, and Peter took advantage of it, using this moment to kick him in the crotch with his knee, using all the strength he had.

It worked. The man loosened his grip and Peter broke away, not staying to watch him bend in half from the pain. He threw himself in the crowd, swaying on his heels. His heartbeat sounded like a drum in his ears, scrambling even the noises of the music. He felt like he was on a rampage, bumping into people and looking around for an escape, sure that in any moment he’d feel the guy’s grip on his shoulder.

Finally, he saw the sign for the bathrooms, and he almost tripped off his own feet trying to run in that direction. He barged into the weakly-illuminated room, looking around deliriously, but there was no one here. The window was placed too high for him to reach it, and even if it wasn’t, he didn’t have the ability Gwen or Miles had and he would probably kill himself while trying to escape that way. He thought about going back out on the dance floor but he abandoned the idea, as the image of his would-be abuser appeared in his mind. No, there was no way he was going there. 

So he was trapped.

He stormed into one of the cabins, locking it. His hands were shaking so much he could barely grip the lock properly, but he managed to do that, and then he tried to open his purse and fish out his phone. He needed almost five attempts to unlock it, but he made that eventually, and his contacts list displayed on the screen.

He couldn’t recognize the names. Everything was a little blurry, the adrenaline, tears, his still shaking hands, it all made it hard for him to distinguish the letters. Who should he call? His fathers, who were on a mission and would ask him uncomfortable questions? His friends he lied to? Who would come to help his pathetic ass get out of this mess?

But then, suddenly, he saw that he was calling someone. His fingers just clicked some number without him even noticing.

“Petey?” The deep rumble made his head spin and he leaned his hand on a wall to support himself. “I… woah, I really can’t believe you finally called, you didn’t respond to my texts and I thought that–”

“ _ Wade. _ ” Peter’s sob interrupted the man’s happy rambling, making the merc go silent instantly. 

He couldn’t believe he called Deadpool. Out of all people. Did he have no dignity at all? Calling him in a situation like this when the man clearly didn’t want anything from him? But his intoxicated mind remembered the comfort of being close to the man, of breathing his smell and feeling the warmth of his body, the happiness of dancing with him and the pleasure of hearing his voice. And right now, he needed comfort. Right now, he was…

“ _ Scared, _ ” Peter sobbed again, feeling his tears soothing the ache on his slapped cheek. 

“Where are you?” Wade’s voice never sounded more serious. It was calm and quiet, drawing the boy’s attention completely. It was the anchor steadying Peter among the storm in his brain, among all those frantic thoughts that were screaming at him all at once making it hard to focus. “Just tell me where you are baby, it’s okay, two minutes and I’ll be there sweetheart, I promise.”

Peter closed his eyes shut, but it did very little to stop the stream of tears. His fist was clenched so tight he was worried he’d snap the phone in half.

“Elysium.” He finally whispered the name of the club, leaning the back of his head on the cold wall separating the cabins. He heard the series of crackling sounds on the other side of the call and Wade’s regular exhales.

“I’m on my way Petey, just hold on okay? Hold on a little more, can you do that for me?” His voice was soft like velvet and Peter couldn’t stop another wave of tears, hiccuping a few times. Why the hell did Wade have to sound that gentle, that comforting? Why was he still playing that game with Peter, after all that had happened?

“O-okay,” he sniffed, pressing the phone to his ear, hearing something like the sound of boots hitting the ground and Wade muttering something under his breath. And then, just when he was about to say something more, something about how he didn’t want to bother the merc, the bathroom door opened with a loud creak and his heart stopped beating.

“There you are, you little bitch.” The familiar voice filled with fake sweetness and now also with rage made the boy’s brain shortcut. He started shaking, breaths coming shallow.

“No,” he choked out, his throat so tight he could barely swallow, tears blurring his vision. “Please, I’m sorry, just go, I’m sorry,” he babbled, petrified with fear. He couldn’t hear the swears or words Wade was saying, he forgot he had a phone in hand. All he could focus on were the steps on the other side of the thin wood that stopped right before him, making the blood in Peter’s veins freeze.

“Open the door.” The angry and demanding voice of the man left no room for discussion, implying that if he didn’t do as he was told, there would be consequences for sure.

“Please,” he tried anyway, not able to move even a finger of his hand. The memory of the guy’s teeth on him, of his body caging his made Peter start hyperventilating from terror. He didn’t want to feel it ever again. He wanted to scream. “Please go. Please, I’m sorry...”

He never felt like that. Like he was prey cornered against a wall. Even with Tombstone, he had a presence of mind and was able to think straight, to try to plan his moves. Now he felt weak and useless, with thoughts paralysed by panic. No way out. No help.

“You heard me whore, open the fucking door or I’m gonna do it myself, and trust me, I won’t be pleased if you force me to do it.” The man punched the plywood and Peter flinched, taking a step back. He could swear he heard a growl in his ear but he was too focused on the boots he could see under the edge of the door.

“No, please, please leave me alone,” he cried, clenching his fist on his dress, trying not to wonder if the man was gonna rip it off him when he finally got in here. He felt like he was going to vomit any second, alcohol and fear making his head spin. He never felt so weak in his entire life.

“You can’t just take away something you promised me, freak. And now you also have to pay for that blow.” The man yanked the knob and the door shook dangerously, hinges squeaking. Peter made a pathetic whine as he pressed his back to the wall behind him, not hearing the sound of the call being ended.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he kept repeating those two words, feeling like the last hope was leaving him, as the iron grip of dread was clenching his heart in its cold fingers. If he only hadn’t been stupid enough to let this happen…

“No amount of apologies will help you now, you little–” The door to the bathroom was pushed so hard it collided with the wall with a loud thud, and a second later, the guy’s sentence ended with a strangled sound. The man’s feet were yanked from where he stood, there was another thump and then, there was finally silence in the room.

For a few seconds Peter’s rapidly beating heart was the only thing he could hear. His mind was perfectly blank, until the faint, barely recognizable smell reached his nostrils.

Leather. Blood. Gunpowder.

“ _ You shouldn’t have fucking done that _ .” That voice, so familiar yet completely different. Now it was still low, but the unusual calmness sounded utterly terrifying, rage hidden just under the surface. There was a quiet wheeze that sounded suspiciously like Peter’s abuser, and the boy gulped, trying to remove the hoarseness from his throat.

“Wade?” He asked weakly, taking an uncertain step closer to the wood. “Is that… is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me Petey, you can come out if you want, this cocksucker won’t lay another finger on you, I promise. You’re safe now.” His tone had a slightly gentler note in it, and Peter bit his lip, trying to stop himself from crying. His mind was still trying to catch up with what was happening. Was he really safe? Was the man really not a threat anymore? The sudden rescue was kind of hard to believe. But there was no sign of the man’s hurtful words, and Peter was so hungry for some confirmation that he decided to take a risk.

He took another step forward and reached for the lock, unlocking it with still shaking hands. He exhaled softly and pushed the wood, only to sway and lean on the door frame at the sight he found outside.

Wade was really there. In full Deadpool suit, standing tall and intimidating, fury radiating from his posture. He never seemed that scary before, never looked more like the cold blooded mercenary people were telling him to stay away from. But Peter didn’t fear him at all, as the man’s anger wasn’t aimed at him. Because Deadpool was holding his abuser against a wall with only one hand on his throat. The guy’s toes barely touched the floor as his fingers scratched at the arm keeping him in place. 

And did Peter really think that the man was big? Because if he was big, Deadpool was just huge, making the guy look pitiful next to him.

The merc turned his head to look at Peter, and then he tensed even more, his jaw flexing, the move visible through the material of his mask. Peter knew what he saw, because he sneaked a peek at himself in the mirror placed right in front of him. 

Puffy eyes still filled with tears, rimmed red. The print of fingers on his slapped cheek, slowly bruising. Neck and collarbones with marks of teeth everywhere, almost looking like he was attacked by a wild animal. Hair a mess, pale skin, lower lip still trembling. Peter would be embarrassed to show himself in a state like this if he wasn’t so terrified, drunk and relieved to see the merc at the same time.

“He did that?” Wade asked gently, but his fingers had to probably clench tighter because the guy in his grip became purple in the face and his eyes looked like they were going to bug out at any moment.

Peter could only swallow with a miserable expression, lowering his gaze. 

That was all confirmation Deadpool needed. He turned back to the man he was holding, and the snarl that tore from his guts was anything but human.

“I’m going to fucking  _ kill you _ .” He growled right in the man’s face, removing him from the wall a few inches only to slam him on it again with full force. The lamps on the ceiling shook. “I’m going to break every bone in your body with my bare hands, poke your eyes out and feed them to rats. And I won’t hurry.”

This was the side of the mercenary that everyone warned Peter of before. The side of someone who took pleasure in making other people suffer, of someone who didn’t mind gore in the slightest. Gone was the role of dorky gentleman who ordered all the spicy dishes available on the menu. The man standing before Peter was a deadly murderer who was without flinching describing to his victims the exact way he was going to end their life. He was everything his fathers told him he was, and so much more. 

And yet, again, Peter wasn’t scared at all. Wasn’t disgusted, wasn’t thinking about the ways to escape from the room. He felt that he couldn’t be safer anywhere other than right here, right next to Wade's side. 

The man transformed himself into a blood starved predator because of Peter, because the boy called him crying that he was scared and he came immediately, without hesitation. And he was ready to tear away the guy who hurt Peter without missing a beat, the moment he arrived.

Peter shuddered, letting go of the doorframe and taking a hesitant step forward.

“Wade.” The man turned to him instantly, reaching with his free hand to offer him support, but also keeping it away enough so its presence wasn’t invasive. Peter took it anyway, clenching his fists on the leather and walking the rest of the way until he could finally put his forehead on his warm body, hiding his face and tears already drying on his skin. “Let him go. He doesn’t deserve to die like this.”

“Oh, I'm pretty sure he deserves so much worse Petey.” Deadpool’s arm wrapped around the boy gently, hugging him tighter. It made a contrast with the other half of Wade’s body that was tense, keeping the abuser still in place, wheezing sounds starting to leave the man’s throat.

“No I… That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have accosted him in the first place…” Peter tried to explain, words muffled by Wade's costume, but the mercenary interrupted him.

“Baby, you did  _ nothing  _ wrong, you hear me? I know assholes like him, fucking dickheads that think that once permission is given it can’t be taken away. His type makes me sick on the good days, but now…” his voice paused dangerously, “now I think it will be good to use this scumbag as a warning for others. Yeah, that plus I just want him to suffer for touching you.” He ended, his tone cold enough to freeze the heat of the sun itself, yet, in some very twisted, very concerning way, comforting for Peter. 

“Let go,  _ please _ .” He reluctantly raised his head to look Wade in the eyes, emphasizing his words. The merc instantly released the guy who basically collapsed next to their feet, spluttering and coughing, his face a different shade of purple and red.

“I think he… learned his lesson. He probably won’t try that again.” Peter continued, keeping the eye contact with Deadpool, who still very clearly was on the verge of doing something stupid. Would anyone else on earth be foolish enough to come that close to the pissed off assasin, daring to tell him what to do? God, Peter had nothing for his excuse, even alcohol.

But Wade only reached with his freed hand and brushed the tips of his gloved fingers over Peter’s cheek bone, so lightly and tenderly the boy barely felt the touch, his eyelids fluttering shut. 

The hand that was strangling a man seconds ago.

“What he did to you…” Wade started and cut out, fist clenching inches from Peter’s face. He exhaled shakily, then tried again. “What he said to you…”

“Please,” this time Peter interrupted him, leaning his head back on Wade’s chest. “Just… Let’s go home.”

Wade didn’t say another word of protest, leaning down and lifting the boy in his arms, so he was holding him almost princess style, Peter’s face hidden in his chest.

The boy didn’t know how they got out of the club. The adrenaline high started to drop and he suddenly felt so weary he couldn’t even bother with opening his eyes. He started silently crying again, but then there was this thumb wiping the tears off and this soothing voice right in his ear murmuring sweet nonsense. He felt the wind on his arms and legs but then there was the hum of the engine, and he was put in a weirdly smelling car.

He couldn’t open his eyes but he was listening closely, acknowledging that Wade actually knew their taxi driver, who was called Dopinder. Said Dopinder first tried to ask some questions, but quickly stopped, and Peter assumed that it was probably something in Deadpool’s posture that made him. Wade himself only told the man Peter’s address, and the boy noticed that it was two blocks away from where he actually lived. The thought that Wade would do as much as think that he wouldn’t like some stranger to know his address was truly touching, and made Peter cry again.

He eventually calmed down, and the quietly playing radio became the only sound breaking the silence in the car. He might as well pass out for a minute, because the next moment he was conscious, someone opened the door on his right and was pulling him outside. 

Peter opened his eyes and blinked, the light of the street lamps making him squirm and grimace. He recognized that the hands helping him get out belonged to Deadpool and he let himself be manhandled, murmuring something indistinctly. He didn’t notice Dopinder driving away, too focused on breathing regularry and looking down at his own feet like it would help him to keep his balance. Only after a minute he realized that he was all this time leaning on Wade, so the alcohol and stress probably kicked in harder than he expected, if he had problems with recognizing his surroundings.

“Petey?” Wade asked carefully and the boy raised his head to look at him again, blinking owlishly. “Are you going to vomit sweetheart?”

“Uh, no. I don’t think so. Just… gathering thoughts. Can we go, please?” He shuddered, and Wade instantly led them the way to the boy’s apartment, supporting Peter with his arm around his middle the entire time.

When they came to the entrance of Peter’s block, Wade visibly hesitated, but Peter nodded once and the merc opened the door without any more questions. They waited for an elevator to go down, and then they got into it, Peter clicking the button of his floor.

“You’re sure that you want to… you know, show me where you live?” Of course Wade wouldn’t abandon the gentleman role completely. That was… kind of sweet he still bothered enough to do this.

They were without any doubts heading to Peter’s apartment, after the man just rescued him from being assaulted. He apparently didn’t hate Peter so much as the boy thought, and he didn’t get bored yet either, coming when Peter called him, which obviously meant he wanted to collect his reward, right? The opportunity was perfect, and even if Peter didn’t look his best, he was glad he was going to have this finally behind him. He would maybe like to be a little more sober for it, but he wasn’t going to complain. Maybe it was better anyway, that he won’t remember the sex, that way maybe his stupid brain won’t miss the man later that much.

Either way, his plan became a success eventually. This weird situation is going to end tonight.

“Yes, Wade.” He closed his eyes and sighed softly, shaking his head. “I told you I don’t mind.”

Deadpool remained quiet after this, which still was unusual and kind of disturbing, but Peter was too emotionally exhausted to care about this. If Wade didn’t want this, he knew how to take care of himself better than Peter.

They got out of the elevator and after a few steps, they found themselves before the door to the boy’s apartment. Peter supported himself with his hand on the wall, thinking intensively. 

“My keys…” He murmured to himself, patting his dress uselessly, until Wade cleared his throat, pointing at the boy’s purse. Peter smiled with relief and handed the bag to Wade, whose eyes widened.

“Uh, you want me to open the door?” He asked stupidly, and Peter rolled his eyes, even if the movement kind of hurt because of how sensitive they had become from crying.

“No, rob me. Of course I want you to open the damn door.” The sentence came out a little slurred, but Peter was still proud of himself, and Wade did as he was told without any further comments. It was really the only logical choice to let the man take care of locks, as his hands weren’t shaking violently, unlike Peter’s.

They went inside, and Peter struggled for a moment to turn on the lights, almost tripping over the doorstep. His traitorous mind came up with a thought that he was glad he cleaned there before, but it disappeared quickly, as they both walked in and the merc closed the door behind them.

Peter expected to be immediately pressed to the nearest surface, but nothing like that happened. Wade, again, only wrapped his arm around the boy’s waist and helped Peter over to the sofa in his living room. Uh, okay, so Wade wasn’t a fan of wall sex, understandable.

The boy was seated on the comfy pillows and the man kneeled before him, putting his hands on his calf. Peter’s breath hitched but Wade didn’t go any higher. Quite the opposite, he helped the boy take off his high heels, freeing Peter’s feet. Then he put them aside and got up, walking to the kitchen, leaving the confused boy behind.

Peter furrowed his brows, watching as Wade looked around his kitchen, until he found a clean glass on the counter and poured some water there. Then he came back, observed closely by the boy who leaned back on the sofa, sinking into the many cushions.

“Here, drink this, dehydration is not a funny thing to deal with. Would make you something better but I don’t want to snoop around your stuff, so, yeah. Water has to do the trick for now.” Wade passed him the glass and Peter sipped it slowly, keeping eye contact. 

Wade seemed not only quiet, but he was also gloomy and upset. Peter didn’t understand why. Why water, why dragging the moment? But okay, maybe the merc was just a service top, that never happened to Peter before but he knew from the stories that people like this actually existed, and to have sex with one was an experience worth spending time.

He finished the water and Wade was right there to take the glass from him, putting it carefully on the coffee table before the sofa.

Peter leaned back again, exhaling softly and keeping his eyelids half open, feeling the relaxation of being safe in his own home after such an eventful evening. 

Well, as safe as you can be with the world's most skilled assassin in the room. Who, Peter noticed with mild concern, still didn’t move from his standing position a few steps away, only watching Peter and clenching his fists every few seconds, when he should have been long between the boy’s thighs.

Peter fidgeted on his seat nervously. Something was not right.

“I think it’s my time to leave, then.” Wade shifted his weight on his feet, scratching the back of his neck. Which made Peter furrow his brows again, red light in his head turning on. Leave? What the hell was the merc talking about?

“Uh, Wade?” He leaned forward, his slapped cheek aching, uncomfortable because of the sudden change of his expression. “What do you mean?”

“Just, you know, I delivered you safely as you wanted me to, so. Yeah.” He shrugged and looked at something on the floor, like it was the most fascinating thing in the whole apartment.

Peter could only stare at him.

“So you’re not… you’re not staying?” He forced his mouth to actually form words instead of gaping like a fish pulled out of water.

What was this all about? Was Wade really that shy? Did he really have no idea how to just simply ask for what he wanted? Because he wanted it, right? He came when Peter called. He could ignore him, but he didn’t.

“Why would I stay Petey?” Wade spread his arms, gesturing at the apartment around him. “I would if I could but you clearly need some space, after all that happened and I think you’ve got everything necessary to rest now. I don’t want to overstay my welcome, you know?”

Peter suddenly felt angry like never before. How long was Wade going to mislead him?

“I don’t fucking get you,” he hissed bitterly, making Deadpool flinch with surprise.

“Uh, sweetums?” He raised his hands like Peter was some animal that needed to be calmed down, which only made the boy more riled up. He had enough. He had fucking enough.

“I said,” Peter reached out and grabbed one of the straps on Deadpool’s suit, yanking him closer, “I don’t know what the hell you’re up to, but I’m freaking _ tired of this _ .”

He pulled again and made Wade sit on the couch next to him. The merc was so stunned he didn’t even try to resist, letting Peter push him on the pillows next to him.

“Tired of wha–”

“ _ I don’t get you _ ,” the boy raised himself on his knees, supporting his weight by grasping Wade’s shoulders. “What is your deal, huh? You like to see me making a fool of myself, over and over again? Or maybe you’re into it, enjoying how pathetic I look and act?”

Peter put his leg over Wade’s, sitting on his lap, facing him. His dress was pulled up so high it was inappropriate at least, his thighs almost completely uncovered, along with the front of his panties.

“I don’t know why the hell you won’t just fucking _ touch me _ .” Peter felt the tears again, the desperation and anger making his body shake. Wade was trying to say something but he was cut off by the boy as he pressed his crotch against Wade’s, moving his hips in sharp, fluid motions. “I don’t get why you’re giving me so many mixed signals! Why don’t you just tell me that you want to fuck me and end this whole charade! Why are you so complicated?” The tears flew down on Peter’s face and the boy had to stop talking for a moment, his throat too tight to formulate the words.

His dick was half hard, and from the bulge he felt under the leather, Wade clearly had an erection too. So, his suspicions were right, Deadpool  _ was _ interested in him, and all this time he was just playing him. It made Peter’s heart ache.

“Petey, stop, what the hell are you–”

“You think I would fucking refuse you?” The boy continued babbling, his hips losing the rhythm because of how much his body shook from the hiccups. His head was spinning and he was feeling dizzy, the wide opened eyes of Wade’s mask the only thing he could see. “They all barely asked for my consent and I never said no until… until today so you think I would actually say anything to  _ you _ ? You, who bothered enough to make this whole scene of a lovestruck couple? You could have just taken me that day at Miles’ party and  _ I wouldn’t. Have said. A damn. Word! _ ”

The bruises from teeth on his neck were throbbing with a dull pain, as he yelled at Wade, punching his chest with his fist after every word. He was so weak in that moment that the man probably didn’t even feel that, but Peter was far too gone to care about that.

He completely lost the coordination of the moves of his hips, almost bending in half from another wave of sobs that silenced him for a few seconds. What the fuck was wrong with him? And what the fuck was wrong with Wade?

“Sweetheart, please, what–”

“I don’t recognize myself.” Peter wheezed with difficulty, not even noticing Deadpool’s attempts to say something. “I don’t know what the hell you did to me but I feel like I can’t… I can’t go back to what I had and it’s  _ killing me _ . If you would just finally fuck me and leave like everybody else, maybe I would finally go back to normal but right now, like this, I can’t think straight and it’s  _ your fault _ .” Peter barely could see anything, his vision completely covered by tears. He still was trying to please the man, moving his bottom up and down, but that whole situation felt so unreal he kept forgetting about it, just spilling his guts and praying for his body not to vomit from nerves. It was like falling, faster and faster into some darkness and waiting for the impact to finally appear.

He felt a hand on his cheek, thumb wiping the tears. The touch was so gentle and full of affection he wanted to scream, the contrast between its tenderness and Peter’s filthy motions almost unbearable. He yanked his head away, simultaneously pressing their crotches harder, his teeth gritted.

“Just  _ use me _ for fuck’s sake, why the hell are you pretending all the time?” He whined pathetically, feeling that if the man didn’t do anything soon, he was going to lose his mind completely. “I told you, I’m fucking used to it, you won’t break me! I know that I’m weird, I know that I’m not normal, that I’m nobody's type, that you’ll get bored with me eventually, but please just fucking  _ do something _ or I won’t get over you! I won’t tell anyone you had sex with me, I promise! Just please, I want to think straight again, I want to be able to let go, I want to... I want to–”

“Peter,  **stop** .” This time, those usually gentle hands grabbed his hips in an iron grip, halting his movements completely. It wasn’t painful, but it was hard enough that the boy couldn’t move even one inch, completely immobilised. In fact, he didn’t really need that to stop fidgeting, as Wade’s tone alone had made him go completely still.

He never heard him use that voice. Even with Peter’s abuser, it was furious but nothing close to  _ that _ . To the absolute demand of obedience Peter just couldn’t resist. 

He stopped moving, he stopped crying, he stopped even blinking, frozen in the middle of swaying down, panting heavy through his nostrils. 

“Baby, you need to calm down for me, okay?” Wade’s hands moved up, until they linked with Peter’s, squeezing them once. “You need to breathe, can you do that? Everything’s okay, I’m here, you can let go, I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

Peter’s thighs started shaking from the effort of keeping him half lifted, and Wade pressed at his waist to lower them until Peter was fully seated on his lap again. He was looking at Wade with his lower lip trembling dangerously, trying and failing to take a deep breath that would help him calm himself. There was not enough air in the room and he felt like he was suffocating.

“Peter, look at me. Look at me, copy my moves, okay?” The boy didn’t notice when Wade lifted his mask over the bridge of his nose, showing his mouth. He held Peter’s head in his hands and angled him so that they were almost nose to nose. “Just inhale and exhale sweetheart, that’s it, you’re doing great.”

Peter really doubted that he did anything but horrible, but the praise worked, a few of his muscles relaxing. He took a breath, watching closely as Wade did the same, holding it as long as the merc did. Then he repeated, again and again, until he realized he was breathing without help, Deadpool’s lips stretched in a soft smile, one of his hands stroking soothing circles on Peter’s back. 

He swallowed, trying to remove the hoarseness from his throat enough so he could say something, but Wade put his finger on Peter’s lips for a second, shaking his head.

“Shhh, everything’s okay. You did good, I’m proud of you.” The mercenary moved some curls from Peter’s forehead, and the boy’s eyes filled with tears again. 

“I’m sorry,” he sniffed and hiccuped once despite Wade’s soft attempts to shush him. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, baby, don’t cry, it’s okay.” The man gently pushed the back of Peter’s head until the boy hid his face in the crook of the merc’s neck. Those muscular arms wrapped around him, holding him close to Wade’s chest that ran hot like a small oven, warming the boy’s body better than any blanket. “Don’t apologize, it’s okay, really.”

Peter didn’t believe him, but he couldn’t say anything else, his muffled sobbing the only sound filling the room. 

He was dreaming. He had to be, no one should be holding him like that after he just yelled at them, losing control over what he was doing and saying. No one should pat his hair and back like this, murmuring over and over that everything was okay, after he just overshared almost all the thoughts that were eating him alive for weeks.

Yes, it had to be a dream. A very nice one. He didn’t know his drunk brain could ever make something that real by itself. He wanted to make it last as long as he could, he wanted to never wake up. The world where he won’t feel those warm hands on him wasn’t worth living.

“Stay.” He whispered to his dream imagination, pressing his face to it as much as he could. His consciousness was slipping, exhaustion finally kicking in fully, and he didn’t care anymore if the Wade from his dream was going to judge him for being pathetic and clingy or not. “Stay, I just… please.”

Arms around him tightened their grip.

“I won’t leave you. I promise.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, pls spare a comment to your fellow writer who's killing their back sitting every day and working on this fic ;u; ❤️❤️❤️

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on my [instagram ](https://www.instagram.com/yommortot/) ((or to see some spideypool bonuses))


End file.
